To Have and To Hold
by Anath Tsurugi
Summary: Bucky's been free of the Winter Soldier for about six months when Steve pops the question. Unfortunately, the universe still isn't going to make it easy for them to be together, as both Hydra and the Red Room suddenly step in looking to topple S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers. Sequel to The Winter Soldier
1. Will You

(A/N) All right, I imagine I should warn any new comers that this is a sequel to my last story, _The Winter Soldier_, but you can certainly try to follow it if you want. I think what takes place in a Winter Soldier story is pretty self-explanatory. Really, the only place you might be lost is the bit with Loki at the end. Otherwise, all you lovely return readers, I hope you're excited. We're gonna play all the games we did before and then some (lots of some).

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 1: Will you…?_

Considering Steve Rodgers' line of work, it wasn't particularly strange that he and Bucky Barnes began to work as partners after they became lovers. When the two of them were out on assignment, Bucky wore a uniform that was very similar to what he'd worn as a Howling Commando, the only addition being a black mask to protect his identity, as his partner was already so iconic. S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't figure out how, but the press had somehow gotten a hold of the name Winter Soldier, so that's what they became in the media: Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Bucky bore the name mostly with grace, but there were still times he couldn't help but shudder at its use.

Again, in the world of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, none of this was strange. The strangeness began when Bucky lost his head after a particularly dangerous battle with a platoon of robot soldiers and planted a rather passionate kiss on the good captain's lips, relieved beyond words that he hadn't been incinerated.

Fury had warned them to keep that sort of thing out of the field and it didn't take them long to find out why. A lone cameraman had captured the tender moment and the media firestorm had exploded overnight. The headlines ran the gamut from CAPTAIN AMERICA GAY! to AMERICA OUT OF THE CLOSET, along with some of the more ridiculous tabloid stories that insisted the Winter Soldier was secretly a woman.

It really didn't help to be operating in a country where the debate over gay rights raged so hot. Several politicians had blasted the two super heroes for presenting such an image of the United States to the rest of the world, given Captain America's historic and iconic status. Some even demanded he come forward and explain himself, which Steve would have done gladly, except that Fury had stated, in no uncertain terms, that it wasn't an option. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s PR liaison's official response to their detractors had been something along the lines of, "Do _you_ defend the human race against threats beyond its most horrific nightmares? No? Then you have no place to judge them. Only their peers have that option, and you, gentlemen, are inarguably _not_ their peers."

It was with things like this in mind that they went into the field these days. They were in the public eye nearly as much as Tony was with the Iron Man suit (and of course the public had gone absolutely gaga over the fact that he'd lost an arm in battle). Actually, they were working with Stark on this particular assignment. Some crazy Australian terrorist was playing the kidnapped love one card and it had been Tony's idea to pull the little stunt they were just about to execute.

"You know I still hate this idea, Stark," Steve berated the billionaire as he gave him a lift through the city, up to the designated rendezvous point…a nice, tall, easy to fall from skyscraper.

"Yeah, I remember, Capsicle, but your boy toy's definitely getting a kick out of it," Tony reminded him, to which Steve rolled his eyes. He had hotly protested the idea of Bucky _allowing_ himself to be kidnapped, but all he and Tony had seemed to care about was having their fun with this wannabe criminal. So the Winter Soldier had been "captured" and…what was his name?...Doc Croc?...something ridiculous like that…had given Captain America the ultimatum of coming to meet him alone and unarmed in order to make a trade.

Once they were close enough, Tony gave Steve a good toss and the super soldier landed atop the roof of the skyscraper while Iron Man flew to a safe distance, leaving him to face the terrorist alone.

The doc was near the far edge of the roof, his captive bound and gagged at his feet…and easily within shoving distance of the edge. Bucky was seemingly unconscious…at least Steve _hoped_ it was seemingly. Neither of the other two seemed to understand how horribly wrong this could go.

"Thought I said alone," the doc said, his voice thick with an Australian accent. For someone who called himself _Doc_ Croc, he looked more like a crocodile hunter in his leather pants, vest, and hat, but the man had thus far proven he had at least a few brain cells to rub together.

"He's leaving. How else was I supposed to get up here?"

"The stairs," he suggested, eyeing the captain distrustfully. "You got what I asked for, little Miss Stars & Stripes?"

"I've got it," Steve said, pulling a vial from the place he normally kept his gun. He was feeling decidedly naked without even his shield on him.

"Ah," the doc crooned as he took the vial in hand, eyeing it with a bit more lust than any sane man had a right to eye an encapsulated chemical with. "So, Captain, how much of S.H.I.E.L.D. didja have to fight off to secure this little beauty?"

"Practically the whole damn organization," he growled, not really having to fake his frustration and worry. Bucky could at least give him some kind of sign he was okay.

"My, my, my," the doc chided as he headed back toward Bucky. "Captain America turnin' against S.H.I.E.L.D. Have I actually brought the great hero down to _my_ level?"

"We had a _deal_," Steve continued to growl, not acknowledging the taunt. "Let the Soldier go."

"Now I think about it, I don't know that I should. I could get a lot more outta you for your precious soldier boy. You have no idea what you've given me, do you."

"No, and if I'm honest, I don't care. I just want you to let him go."

"All right, then. Beg me."

"What?"

"On your knees. I want you to beg me for his life."

Keeping his eyes locked on the doc, Steve did as he asked, moving easily to his knees.

"Please…don't hurt him."

"My God, is this guy _still_ talking?" Tony's voice groaned through his earpiece. "What're you waiting for, Barnes? We're gonna get old here."

The doc actually started to laugh. "Look atcha. America's mighty defender…brought to his knees for one man," he mocked, seizing Bucky's unmoving bulk and dragging him right to the ledge, holding him out over the abyss below.

"_Please_," Steve repeated, unable to move, as he was gripped with fear at the sight of the all too familiar scene…Bucky…his life…hanging over an endless drop. "Please…just give him back."

"No," the doc said quietly, sneering as he let Bucky go.

Before Steve could move, before he could even scream a denial, Bucky was in motion, flipping through the air and landing back on the roof as the cuffs that held him broke into pieces, destroyed by his magic. Almost in an instant, their positions were reversed, with Bucky holding the doc over the ledge by his throat, a look of shocked terror on his face.

"You can't really let go of something if you didn't have a hold of it in the first place," he said with a smirk. "You, on the other hand, I'd say I've got a pretty good hold of just now."

A strangled noise of horror escaped the Australian's throat as his eyes wobbled in fear, but Bucky didn't realize it was all an act until he heard the very distinct sound of a pin being pulled from a grenade. The doc sneered at him as he glanced down just in time to see him toss the explosive directly at Steve.

"_Cap!_"

Bucky barely heard the man scream when he dropped him. His entire world became the shrinking distance between Steve and the soon-to-blow grenade. Throwing himself after it, Bucky sent out his power, knowing he could never catch it, but that he still might be able to stop it. Doing the only thing he could think of in the short amount of time, he threw up a shield around the grenade, pulling it back toward him; but just as he was about to grasp his little force field, the damn thing exploded. He was able to keep it mostly contained, but near the end there was a brief flicker in his magic and the last remnants of flame escaped and burned his still-flesh right arm. Grunting in pain, the soldier slowly crumpled to his knees.

"_Buck!_" Steve half screamed, snapping into action. In seconds, he was kneeling beside his lover, gently taking his injured arm in his hands to examine it. "We need to get you back to the tower."

Bucky gave a slightly pained chuckle as he shook his head. "It looks worse than it is. It'll be healed up by tonight. Stark might have to take a look at the hardware, though," he said, attempting to shrug his biomech left arm and failing.

"Yeah, I can do that. Probably make a few adjustments of my own, too," Tony announced as he flew up over the ledge, landing beside the two. "Wasn't fast enough to catch the guy. He's a smear on the pavement."

"Oops. What a shame," Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

"What…what happened there at the end?" Steve asked, trying to look Bucky in the eye. "When the blast escaped?"

"Oh…you know…pretty strong blast…I couldn't weave the spell to be strong enough in the time I had," Bucky said, barely managing to meet Steve's gaze. If he'd looked away entirely, Steve would have known he was lying, but for the moment, his childhood friend seemed to accept the explanation. Tony Stark was another matter altogether. Unnoticed by Steve, he raised his mask from his face and gave the Winter Soldier a very hard stare. Before he could say anything, though, Steve began to scold the both of them.

"Next time the two of you feel the urge to play games in the field, could you just _not_?" He half-growled. "You could have _died_," he said to Bucky as he helped him to his feet.

"Aw, come on. I wasn't _really_ in danger. Stark would have had my back if I'd actually fallen," Bucky protested, trying to keep his tone light.

"While we're on the subject of falling, could we also _please_ not play games around two-hundred-foot drops."

"Cap, it was just-"

"Do you _honestly_ not understand what that _did_ to me just now?" he shouted at him, even though he was still helping him to stand, all of his fear and frustration imploding in a single moment. "I _saw_ you _fall_, Buck! Do you not _get_ that?"

"Steve, I…I'm sorry," Bucky said, briefly backing down, "but I really was in control."

"Yes, your half-incinerated arm pretty much says it all," Steve sniped.

"Yeah, because you've never been injured in battle before," Bucky shot back.

"Okay, maybe the newlyweds wanna take it down a notch," Tony suggested, though his tone was only half-hearted at best.

"At least I wasn't deliberately provoking the enemy!" Steve continued as if Tony hadn't spoken at all.

"Enemy? What enemy? That guy was a pushover."

"So I guess that grenade just now was my imagination?"

"You know we can't be partnered like this if you can't even trust me to handle myself!"

"Maybe we _shouldn't_ be. You _have_ been suicidal in the past," Steve said, his expression going dark. Bucky's eyes immediately began to glisten at the insinuation.

"Don't you do that," he hissed. "Don't you even _think_ about that. That was a long fucking time ago."

"Then why did you _do_ that?" Steve demanded, his demeanor going from angry to near tears in mere milliseconds. "You don't have to _deliberately_ put yourself in danger anymore!"

"God damn it, Steve! I was just-"

"_Marry me!_"

"If you think – wait…what?" Bucky mumbled, stumbling over his last words as he finally realized just what Steve had said to him. Steve seemed to realize it about the same time, his face going violently red beneath his mask.

"You…you heard me," he stuttered, barely able to believe he'd said it himself.

"Uh…could you ladies hold that thought a moment?" Tony finally managed to interrupt, levitating about five feet in the air, a barely visible wave traveling outward from his suit before he came back down.

"What…did you do?" Steve asked.

"Sent out a pulse. Just scrambled every piece of recording tech within a five mile radius of this spot, audio and visual."

"…Why?" Bucky asked after several minutes of thunderstruck silence.

"That…is definitely something you two little rabbits don't want leaking to the media. Maybe we ought to carry on with the domestic bliss indoors."

XxX

Later that evening, when the three had gotten back to Stark Tower, Steve had Bucky stand beside their bed while he rummaged through his chest of drawers.

"Damn it," he muttered as he searched. "I wanted to do this the right way…and then there I go…"

"Well…what were you planning to do exactly?" Bucky asked, trying not to stare at Steve's back while he searched.

"I was gonna ask you when this whole croc thing was over…after dinner tonight."

"Technically, you _did_ wait til it was over…I guess," Bucky said awkwardly as Steve turned to face him, a small black box clutched in his hands.

"Well, Buck, we've been friends for a long time…a _really_ long time…and even though we've only been together a few months…I'm not ever gonna love anyone else the way I love you, and I want to be with you until I die…and in our line of work, who knows when that'll be?" he said as he dropped to one knee.

"You're…kidding me with the knee thing, right?" Bucky teased, trying very hard not to show how choked up he really was.

"Hey! I said I was gonna do this right, so let me do it right," Steve fired back, though his face was lit with the brightest of smiles at seeing the look on Bucky's face when he opened the box to show him the simple silver band inside. "James Buchanan Barnes…Bucky…will you marry me?"

For what felt like a long time, Bucky just stared at him with a goofy smile plastered on his face, though he also looked like he might burst into tears at the same time.

"Damn it, Steve," he finally mumbled as he dropped to his knees in front of him. "Did you even really have to ask?"

"So that's a yes?" Steve asked breathlessly, needing to actually hear it.

"Yes, you idiot," he said, not allowing him to see the tears he let fall from his eyes as he pulled him into his arms. The two of them were soon lost in a tangle of laughter, tears, and kisses.

XxX

Later that night, after Steve had fallen asleep, Bucky slipped from their room and headed up to the lab where Tony had told him he'd be working that night to find him hard at work with Bruce on some project or other.

"Hey, Jack Frost," Tony greeted without looking up. "Come for that tune-up?"

"Yeah; I can move it okay now, but I think it's still a little loose."

"Hello, Bucky," Bruce said, actually looking up at him.

"Hey, Doc."

"So," Tony started once he'd had Bucky sit down on one of the lab tables, "is it official?"

"Yeah…yeah, it is," Bucky said, still hardly able to believe it himself.

"Is what official?" Bruce asked, coming over to see what Tony was doing as he opened up the mech arm.

"Steve and I are engaged," Bucky answered, holding up his mostly healed right hand to show them the ring Steve had placed on his finger.

"Congratulations…though…Fury's not gonna have a problem with-"

"So what if he does?" Tony interrupted, never missing an opportunity to take a swing at the director. "They're big boys; they can take care of themselves. Besides, what's he gonna do? Kick 'em out?"

"True," Bruce conceded, nodding in agreement. "So, I hear you all lost that vial I gave you."

"Couldn't find it. It's not gonna be a problem, is it?" Bucky asked, wincing slightly when Tony tweaked a connection between flesh and metal.

"Shouldn't be. We've got hundreds of those vials and the substance appears to be neutral. Can't even imagine what this doc guy could have wanted it for. Looks to me to be pretty useless, actually."

"On the subject of Croc, though," Tony picked up as he continued to work, "what happened with that grenade exactly?"

"You heard that already," Bucky said, though he visibly stiffened. "I wasn't fast enough."

"I don't know about that. You're faster than most of us…definitely faster than Doc Crock. What _really_ happened?"

"It wasn't- _Aagh!_" Bucky cried out as Tony got his pliers around a nerve cluster that had separated from the metal, twisting until Bucky was in enough pain that the billionaire could bend him back over the table.

"Tony, what are you doing?" Bruce asked.

"What the _Hell_, Stark!" Bucky shouted as his torturer twisted even harder, drawing an even louder cry from his lips.

"Might want to think twice about lying to me while I've got a metal tool clamped around a part of your body," Tony advised, his expression cold.

"Might…want to think twice about making me scream," Bucky bit back. "Steve's gonna hear this eventually."

"Anybody taking bets on that? Bruce? JARVIS?"

Bruce shook his head and JARVIS immediately began to spout off all the various ways Tony had soundproofed the R&D levels of the tower.

"He's not going to be intervening any time soon, so let's talk," Tony said, giving yet another violent twist and forcing the soldier into silence. "After Tonsberg…you told us you essentially kill yourself a little bit every time you use magic."

"Yeah."

"And you never told Rodgers about that, did you."

Briefly, Bucky struggled against him, but it was half-hearted at best, so he ended up settling back on the table where Tony had him pinned. Not looking at either man, he finally answered, "No."

"That wasn't any ordinary slip today. You're starting to give out, aren't you."

"Probably," he said, glancing off to the side, anywhere but at the man who was forcing him to confront what he already knew. "I don't really know how it works…but Loki told me I'd die from it…sooner rather than later."

"JARVIS?" Tony ordered, not really needing to elaborate on what it was that he wanted.

"Sergeant Barnes' heart rate and blood pressure are well above normal. Blood pressure reads at 150 over 110."

"Damn, Frosty, if you weren't some kind of super soldier yourself, you'd probably be dead already."

"No kidding?"

"There's a simple solution to this, you know? Have you tried…not using magic?" Tony suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"It's how I fight now…how I protect Steve…when he can't protect himself. Like today…"

"At the cost of _your_ life?" Bruce put in quietly from the side. "Do you really think that's going to make him happy?"

"I do try to use it less…but I don't always have a choice. Have you met Steve Rodgers? He has zero sense of self worth or self preservation."

"This isn't about Rodgers, Barnes. It's about the fact that you're killing yourself," Tony cut him off, giving him a harsh stare. "But if you _want_ to make it about him, like you always do, let's talk about what it'll do to him when you drop dead on your wedding night and your blushing groom doesn't see it coming. Think he's gonna survive that very long?"

"Stop it," Bucky whispered, hardly able to even bear the _thought_.

"What was that? Didn't quite catch it."

"I said '_stop it_'!" he shouted, using his free arm to throw Tony off of him. The genius tore free both flesh and mech as he was pushed back, leaving the arm hanging open with several sparking wires exposed and the shoulder bleeding where the nerve cluster had been torn out. Though the pain was intense, Bucky managed to stay on his feet, glaring poison at Tony.

"Maybe we should all just…take a step back," Bruce suggested, raising his hands in supplication to the two combatants.

"That's rich comin' from _you_, Doc," Bucky spat, still glaring at Tony. "Why do _you_ care how I deal with this?"

"You think I don't know where you're coming from?" Tony asked as he climbed back to his feet. "That I don't know what it's like to be the one dying? I _do_. I also know it's just about the shittiest thing in the world to do to someone you care about…_not_ tell them you might be dying, even if you think you're protecting them. And how you treat that capsicle sleeping in your room does kinda concern me…especially if you plan to stay alive long enough to marry him," he said, getting right back up in Bucky's face.

"I've been…lookin' out for him since we were ten. How can I quit now?" he asked, his anger seeming to drain out of him all in an instant, leaving him looking lost. "What can I do?"

Quite suddenly, Tony began to smirk again, his sternness evaporating easily. "You could try asking for help, Frosty. It's pretty easy."

"W- what?"

"Hey, I figured out how to keep my own hardware from killing me. We can probably figure this out, too. Just gotta figure out the angles," Tony said, coaxing him back onto the lab table. "Should probably start by talking to the Asgardians, and you, Mr. Freeze, better get started on a magic diet. Though, if that thing on your finger means _anything_ to you, you'll tell Rodgers about this…soon," he said, getting serious one last time before getting back to his work. "'cuz if you don't, we will."

"No…don't do that," Bucky protested as the pliers began to replace his exposed wiring. "I…I'll tell him. I just…need a little more time…"

…_a little more time to be a happy, naïve moron who just got engaged to the love of his life._

XxX

More often these days, Loki found himself thinking he was getting sentimental in his isolation. In the first few months, he'd made good use of his powers to fashion living quarters out of the sprawling labyrinth of caverns beneath the desert surface of his new home. When the pains his two children caused him became utterly unbearable sometime in the third month, he'd decided to shift into female form, at least until after they were born and no longer needed to nurse. The shift had helped, even if only for a little while.

Currently near the end of his sixth month, one of the twins was already very active. Keeping tabs on their development, Loki knew he carried both a boy and a girl, and it was the little girl who caused him such pain, insisting on testing out her developing limbs on his helpless innards. Despite the torture, he found himself growing fond of the rambunctious baby girl. She would be a fighter. He could use that.

In his massive amounts of spare time, Loki also found himself fashioning toys for the little ones. Toy weapons, animals, musical instruments, whatever he could think of. He wanted to be able to give them anything they could possibly want…except friends, of course. There wasn't anything he could really do about that except conjure up illusions. The three of them would have to do for each other, but he had to admit he rather liked the thought of that…two helpless little beings who were absolutely dependant on him.

Right now, he was sitting in a rocking chair in the room he had dubbed the nursery, having a bit of a rest after another long day of making baby toys. His little girl wasn't make it easy for him, though, active and (dare he think it?) violent as she was. He rubbed his slightly bulging stomach soothingly as he rocked, in what he was fast realizing was a vain attempt to placate her. She was constantly moving around, and how her brother could manage to stay so still without being dead with _her_ rolling around in there was beyond him, but he certainly wasn't going to argue. His son's calm gave him at least a bit of an anchor through what could only be described as his daughter's tantrum.

"Isn't there anything that will calm you down, little princess?" he asked out loud, finding himself doing that more and more often lately…talking to them. "Mummy needs to rest sometimes, too."

What felt like a jab to his liver seemed to say, _No, you don't sleep unless __**I**__ say so._

Sighing, Loki continued to rub his belly, in pain, but still somehow pleased.

"You really are my daughter, little spitfire."

XxX

(A/N) So…doing anything for you?


	2. In Sickness

(A/N) Mudkipz, thank you very much for your review. And thanks to everyone who's following and favoriting.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 2: In Sickness_

Steve and Bucky didn't really get a chance to announce their engagement. When they returned from their briefing with S.H.I.E.L.D. the next day, everyone had already heard about it…or at least that was what the banner hanging across the den proudly proclaiming CONGRATULATIONS BUCKY AND STEVE! seemed to suggest, along with the other members of the Avengers and their various '& companies' all shouting it and holding up glasses of champagne. Both men were more than a little shocked.

"Congratulations to both of you," Pepper trilled as she passed them each their own glass before giving them both a hug. "Tony told us the news. Hope it's not too much," she continued, waving a hand at the impromptu party.

"Uh…no," Steve said, smiling hesitantly as he glanced around at all their friends. "Th- thank you. Thank you all very much."

"You shouldn't have," Bucky said, his smile tight as he glanced at Tony, who simply raised his glass to him before quickly knocking it back.

"Always knew it was gonna happen someday," Darcy announced before disappearing into something of a dog pile with the Warriors Three, which Sif had a good chuckle over. Thor and his companions had been able to visit a lot more often since Tony had invented his portable Tesseract transporter.

Next to approach the pair after Pepper were Agents Sharon Carter and Maria Hill. Maria simply congratulated them while Sharon hugged them both.

"We're all so happy for you," Sharon said to Steve, giving him a kiss on the cheek before giving Bucky one as well, saying, "and I suppose you've got less reason to try to kill me now."

Steve frowned at this, but Bucky had a good chuckle. While the threat of him killing Sharon had been very real whilst he had still been the Winter Soldier, Sharon held no grudge over the whole business, and the Soldier's jealousy was now something of a joke between the two of them.

"Fury's not here, is he?" Bucky asked Maria as he took a second look around.

"He's busy at the moment, but he did tell me to let you two know not to expect an extra time off for the honeymoon."

The two partners shared a look at this. At the very least, it was a much better reaction from their superior than they'd been hoping for.

They received congratulations from several others as they made their rounds about the room: Jane and Thor, Erik Selvig, Rhodey, Betty Ross (who had been folded into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s R&D team after the last incident with Loki), as well as Clint and Natasha, who had somehow managed to escape whatever assignment they'd been on in order to be there.

"Well, shoot," Clint started, clapping the both of them on the shoulder. "What can I say but…good luck. Regular marriage is tough enough. Don't even wanna think about what it's gonna be like being a super-powered married couple employed by S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Thanks for the encouragement, Robin Hood," Bucky said, returning the shoulder-clap a little harder than necessary and leaving the archer wincing slightly.

"Hey, don't blame him when you two have psycho super villains coming after you every other week," Natasha reprimanded as she gave her partner's shoulder a soothing rub. "You do realize they're going to be all over you, right? Nothing's better to these nut jobs than a couple. They're going to milk it for all it's worth."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing neither of us goes down easy," Steve said, his own smile tightening slightly at her insinuation.

"Hey, you two are the ones putting nooses around your necks. I wash my hands of it," the agent said before leading Clint away to secure another round of drinks.

It didn't take very long for the little celebration to devolve into one large drinking game. As always, whenever the two of them got together, Thor and Erik just had to go head to head, even though Erik knew he could never win. Clint and Tony were in on the fun before too long and the puppy pile of Asgardians and Darcy got progressively more drunk and more sexual in the case of Darcy and Fandral, escalating to a point where Pepper and Sif had to escort them to a room.

After several rounds between the four drinking combatants, Thor raised a hand and glanced toward Jane, who, even though she was sitting at the bar, hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all night, which they all found strange, as the astrophysicist tended to enjoy her alcohol very much.

"Jane…may I tell them now?" he asked her, a loopy smile plastered on his face, even though he was far from drunk.

Jane thought for a moment before breaking into a large smile herself. "Sure. Why not?"

"My dear friends," Thor began, straightening. "We have not just one joy to celebrate tonight, but two. Jane informed me about a week ago…that we are expecting a child!"

There was a brief moment of stunned silence before the tipsy/inebriated group burst into a fresh round of congratulations. As he was sitting beside her, Steve was the first to hug Jane, telling her how happy he was for the two of them. Betty and Pepper pounced on their friend simultaneously, each bursting with questions.

"How far along are you?"

"Boy or girl?"

"Have you thought about names yet?"

"When are you due?"

"Do Thor's parents know yet?"

"Only about nine weeks, so I don't know the baby's gender yet. We haven't really talked about names yet. Due in December, and as far as I know, they don't know. Heimdall probably knows, but I don't if he's told them anything," Jane rattled off in quick succession.

"My father will certainly be pleased," Thor threw in as he accepted congratulations from his friends and colleagues.

"Pleased indeed," Volstagg chuckled. "An heir for Asgard!"

Steve was the only one to notice the slightly disquiet look on Jane's face at this comment, but the look was gone before he could say anything and Jane was almost instantly swept up in another round of questioning.

"Just for future reference," Tony slurred as he went slightly cross-eyed, "there is no way in _Hell_ I am ever babysitting the god of thunder's spawn."

Before the drunk billionaire could actually collapse, Pepper and Rhodey quickly moved in to help him make his way to a bed, with Pepper promising to return in order to help their other guests find beds for the night. Glancing around the room, Clint began to note the state of the people who still remained from his own drunken perspective.

Bruce and Betty were helping Jane attempt to placate the drunk, slightly enraged Selvig. Sif and Thor were in between Hogun and Volstagg, preventing the two tipsy warriors either from fighting or making out…he couldn't really be sure. Sharon and Maria were both watching the scenes with glasses of champagne in hand, chuckling at the antics. Steve and Bucky were sitting at the bar cuddling, sneaking occasional kisses as they talked, also occasionally tuning into the antics of the others. Clint couldn't help but feel a bit pleased in knowing that at least _their_ behavior wasn't caused by drunkenness…and it was in watching the two of them that Clint realized who was missing from the group. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Natasha had disappeared. Noticing the sliding door out to the balcony slightly ajar, Clint followed her trail.

He found her out on the balcony, looking out at the city as she swilled the remains of her most recent drink at the bottom of her glass.

"Did you hear the news?" Clint asked as he came to stand beside her, leaning next to her on the railing. "Thor and Foster are gonna have a kid."

"Didn't catch that, actually," she said before downing the last of the alcohol. "Guess the Asgardians are going to be keeping an even closer eye on things down here…if we're going to have the heir to their throne running around."

"Assuming they even let Foster keep the kid. That might be an issue."

"They damn well better," the Black Widow snarled, still not looking at her partner. "If she wants that baby, she should be allowed to keep it."

"Nat," he murmured as he laid a hand on her shoulder, realizing he'd touched a nerve with her. "I'm sorry…I've been drinkin'…"

Natasha chuckled bitterly at this. "We both have, bird boy, which is why you shouldn't be out here," she reminded him. "Who knows what might happen."

"Y'know…I'm startin' to find I don't really care just now," he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Natasha tried to shrug him off, but her heart really wasn't in the attempt.

"That's dangerous talk, Barton. Why do you think I left?"

"'Cuz it was too hot in there?" he joked, intentionally oblivious.

"What makes you think I want to play this game right now…especially after that kid gag."

"Who said I was playin', Tasha?" he returned, answering her question with a question.

Natasha knew she'd already lost when she felt Clint's lips press dangerously against the corner of her mouth, not quite a kiss, but too intimate to mean anything else. Perhaps it was the reason she'd drunk as much as she had? Maybe she didn't _want_ to be able to resist this? They had once promised each other they would never end up like this…that they would be partners and nothing more…that this was dangerous…but so much had happened since that promise was made. Now two of their own were actually getting _married_. Hadn't she warned them about this very thing? But of course they knew these things already. They had seen just as much horror and darkness as she and Clint had…knew that peace was not meant for them…and still they chose this path anyway. They had decided that…some things were worth the inevitable pain. Hadn't she made that decision when she'd decided to care? No matter what she'd said about love…no matter how she felt about anything else in her life…she could at least say, with total certainty, that Clint was the person who mattered the most to her.

"No," she whispered as he gently turned her to face him, pinning her body between the railing and his own body. "You don't play, do you. Not really…"

"Not about this," he returned gently, pressing a kiss to the lily-white skin of her neck.

Natasha sighed as she surrendered herself to the touch, moaned quietly as barriers went crashing down…as the years of tension that had built up in the space they carefully kept between them ignited in a moment of uncontrollable _need_ and _passion_.

Masters of subterfuge that they were, the act itself was hidden, even though it was out in plain sight, right there on the balcony. Anyone looking right at them wouldn't have even realized the full extent of what they were doing as Clint hoisted her body up onto the railing, supporting her as she leaned out into the open air beyond the balcony, unafraid of the fall and the horrible death that awaited her at the end of it so long as he held her. More than just a moment of lust, it was the ultimate exercise in trust.

After all, where would a bird and a spider make love for the first time but at the edge of a several hundred-foot drop?

XxX

_Three Months Later…_

"Natasha! Down!"

The Black Widow didn't question Bucky's shouted warning. She simply obeyed, dropping to the concrete as a fiery laser blast rocketed over the space where her head had been mere moments ago.

"Is that really the best you've got?" the woman who fired the shot demanded of her as she leapt back to her feet. "I thought you people were supposed to be the mightiest. This is pathetic!" she said, turning her unnecessarily large laser on Bucky, who had given his position away by shouting at Natasha. Her earpiece had been damaged in the fight and it had been the only way to get her attention.

Bucky leapt clear of the blast just before it struck the building he'd been staked out in, turning the upper level of the warehouse to rubble. Somersaulting through the air, he landed just behind their assailant, raising his gun to try and take the shot he'd just missed; but before he could shoot her in the head, the assassin had the laser jammed up against his stomach.

"Where's your boyfriend?" she asked him, leering as she held the weapon on the verge of firing.

"Taking care of more important things," he taunted her, keeping the gun aimed at her head. "They don't send Cap out for _trash_ like you."

For a moment, the woman's eyes flared wide in rage, but she soon had herself under control, smirking at her intended victim once again. "That's too bad, because he's going to miss being here to say his last farewell…when I _kill_ the Winter Soldier!"

"Think again, _you bitch!_"

At that moment, Steve's shield smashed into the side of the assassin's head, splitting her skull with its force and sending her crashing to the ground. The next moment, the captain emerged from the rubble of the first building their assailant had demolished, moving quickly toward them.

"Are you all right?" he asked Bucky, his tone still containing some of the rage from earlier. Bucky eyed him warily for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, fine."

"Natasha?" he asked, glancing at her.

As the widow nodded, their crumpled enemy suddenly began to laugh, not quite dead, but bleeding badly and the right side of her face horribly smashed in, bits of brain matter and skull littering the ground around her head.

"I wouldn't have…actually killed him, you know. I just…wanted…to draw you out. The…pleasure…of killing James Barnes…belongs to another."

At this, Steve seized the assassin's collar and pulled her up from the ground, mindless of her pain.

"How do you know his name?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Heheh…there isn't a lot we _don't_ know about you…_Steve Rodgers_…and your…_companion_…your precious fiancée…"

"What are you after? Who do you work for?" he continued to demand, shaking her. The woman continued to laugh.

"If you wanted to know that…you shouldn't have resorted…to a killing blow," she coughed. "But it was…inevitable…I suppose."

"A name!" Steve shouted. "Give me a damn name!"

Still amused, even in her death throes, the woman turned to look at Natasha. "As a fellow product of the Red Room…you _know_ who I work for…but it's so much more than that now."

Natasha froze upon hearing the words, but ultimately managed to glare at their downed opponent. "The Red Room doesn't exist anymore. I know. I was there when it was destroyed."

"I know what you _think_…_Natasha Romanova_…you thought _you_ had destroyed them…but it isn't true. One failed experiment…could never hope to destroy…the masters I serve."

"You're lying."

"No…never…and…for Steve Rodgers and James Barnes…I bear a message."

"What message?" Steve hissed.

"We shall never be destroyed…cut off a limb…and two more…shall take its place. Hail…HYDRA!" she spat in his face before finally breathing her last and going limp in Steve's grip.

After she'd gone, there were several minutes of shocked silence between the three before Bucky finally broke it.

"Cap…what does it mean?"

"I don't know," he finally admitted, his shoulders slumping as he laid the woman's body down.

"Maybe you shouldn't have killed her," Agent Hill's voice sounded wryly through his earpiece.

"Didn't really choose to…but she was threatening Bucky. Just sort of happened," he admitted reluctantly.

"She might have killed Agent Romanoff, too, if he hadn't done something," Bucky put in, anxious to cover Steve's misstep. "By the way, Natasha, what happened back there? Were you daydreaming or somethin'?"

"I don't know," she admitted, glancing away from her two colleagues. "It was like I froze, but I…I don't know why. I was just…exhausted all of a sudden."

"You're not getting sick again, are you?" Steve asked her, concern beginning to win out over his worry for the assassin's message. Natasha had had several bouts of flu over the past few months and it had been affecting her work recently.

"No, it's probably just- blaalgh!"

Halfway through her denial, Natasha suddenly slumped to the pavement and was violently sick, half on the concrete and half on her uniform.

"Uh…no, I'd…definitely chalk that up to getting sick again," Bucky said as he knelt beside her, removing a glove to help her wipe away the mess, but she pushed his hand away hap-hazardly, removing her own glove in order to take care of it herself.

"Agent Hill, is cleanup going to be here soon? Agent Romanoff's down and we need to get her to a medic."

"They'll be arriving at your location any minute now. If you need to get her clear, you can head out now."

"It's not that serious, Maria," Natasha insisted, raising her voice so as to be picked up by Bucky's communicator.

"Natasha, this is…what…the fifth, sixth time you've been sick recently? I'm starting to think it's more than just a little bug. You probably ought to see a doctor about this," Steve advised her.

"It's _fine_," she sniped. "Just get me back to the tower; I'll be fine if I can just _rest_."

"All right…that's what we'll do for now…but I _am_ going to contact Barton tonight," Steve warned her as Bucky helped her to stand.

"No…don't do that," she argued. "They can't extract him now. The assignment in Calcutta's too important."

"And you know he'll rush to your side if I tell him something's wrong? Yeah, that was kinda the idea."

"Fuck you, Cap," she snarled calmly, fighting another wave of nausea.

"Get in line," Bucky teased, attempting to break the tension as they helped the stricken agent limp from the battlefield.

XxX

Considering what had occurred with the unknown assassin, it didn't take much persuading for Maria to give Steve Clint's contact information. It took a few tries to get through to him, but the archer did answer eventually.

"What the Hell is this about, Rodgers?" he hissed into the phone. "I've got a bit of a sensitive situation here."

"It's Natasha."

That changed Clint's tune right quick. "What's wrong?"

"She's sick again…and it hit her in the middle of a fight this time."

"Is she all right?"

"All right as can be expected. She's resting right now, but…she's refusing to see a doctor…says she'll be fine."

Clint sighed. "Yep, that's Nat. If you can _keep_ her resting 'til I get back, I should be able to talk some sense into her."

"Clint…there's one other thing…before you go…"

"Yeah?"

"The woman we fought just now…she said something to Natasha about…the Red Room."

"_WHAT?_" Clint's voice blasted over the line, managing to sound furious and afraid all in the same note.

"She just…talked about being a fellow product of the Red Room," Steve said, slightly floored by Clint's sudden outburst.

"The Red Room doesn't _exist_ anymore. We took care of that," the archer snarled.

"That's what Natasha said, but she said she was wrong."

There were several minutes of silence before Clint announced, "Tell Natasha I'm on my way. I'll be there by tonight."

"What about your assignment?"

A few more seconds of silence followed before a rather hideous scream sounded over the line.

"Done," Clint said. "Never did much like child traffickers to begin with. Steve, don't…don't let her go anywhere, yeah?"

"All right. It'd be nice to know what we're on the lookout for, though."

"I don't know," Clint murmured absently. "Just…don't let her out of your sight," he said before the line went dead.

Steve stared at the phone for several silent minutes, contemplating. Whatever this Red Room business was, it had _both_ Clint and Natasha on edge, and neither of them would talk about it. He would probably have to dig up some information on his own. Also, more importantly to him and Bucky, how was the Red Room connected to HYDRA?

XxX

Was it normal to throw up and be ravenous again not an hour later? Natasha wasn't sure, but she also wasn't arguing with her growling stomach, so she'd sent Bucky to the kitchen to get her something. What she really felt like was Chinese, but he'd absolutely insisted that all she was getting was crackers. She would definitely have to use her mad spy skills to sneak into the kitchen later.

Groaning in frustration, Natasha threw herself down on her bed. She was already feeling one hundred percent again. It just didn't make any kind of sense. What sort of virus left you horribly sick one minute and completely fine the next? What sickness sapped all your strength in the morning and left you buzzing with energy at night? Struck you with mood swings beyond _anything_ you were used to –

"Oh, no," Natasha whispered, her face going white in shock. "No fucking way." She knew _exactly_ what set of symptoms she'd just described to herself, but…frankly it was impossible. Although…she couldn't be positive unless she went to a doctor, and she _hated_ doctors…and now it might not even be safe to see one…if the Red Room was really still at large.

"Uh…JARVIS?" she finally made herself ask.

"Yes, Agent Romanoff?"

"Can you…do a full body scan?"

"Certainly." After a few minutes, the A.I. asked her, "Would you like to view the results?"

"Yes," she murmured. Almost immediately, the projection units in the room brought up a complete schematic of the inner workings of her body. There were probably many anomalies in her body, given what the Red Room had done to her, but the only _anomaly_ she was currently interested in was the one that was plainly visible in her uterus.

"Is…is that…?" She couldn't even make herself finish the question, she was so much in shock.

"A fetus, Agent Romanoff. At approximately twelve weeks gestation."

"That…that's impossible."

"Whether or not it is possible, Ma'am, it is still there."

Natasha's attention was so fixated on the image before her, she hardly noticed the knock on her door. Neither did she acknowledge the three people who entered the room when she didn't answer. The three stopped short at the sight. Bucky and Steve had no idea what they were looking at, but Pepper certainly did.

"Oh," she whispered, easily taking in the image and the stricken look on the secret agent's face. "Oh, sweetie…is it Clint?" she asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

"It can't…I can't…it's just not possible. Something's wrong with the system!"

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "You're accusing Tony Stark of having faulty equipment? I know this is rough, but we're looking right at it."

"Pepper…what _are_ we looking at?" Steve asked.

"Natasha's pregnant," she answered, not turning her eyes away from her.

"You don't _get_ it, do you," Natasha hissed. I _can't_ get pregnant. I _can't_ have kids. I hardly ever bleed…"

"Hardly isn't never, Natasha," Pepper reminded her, placing a hand on her knee. "How far are you?"

"Three months," she whispered, her gaze drifting back to the holographic image.

"That…would about fit. With the stomach viruses you've been having, I mean," Bucky said slowly, his gaze shifting between Natasha and the holo-image.

"Bucky, those crackers'll have to go right back to the kitchen. I'm pretty sure we've got some of that Greek salad left over; bring that up instead. JARVIS, I want a full diagnostic on this baby."

"Yes, Miss Potts."

"This…this never should have happened," Natasha said, barely able to contain the trembling of her body.

"Do…do you _want_ this baby?" Pepper asked, refocusing her attention on the distraught mother-to-be.

"It's not a matter of whether or not I _want_ it," Natasha said, trying to keep her distance from the _thing_ in her belly. "There's…just…no way it'll make it. My uterus…all that stuff that keeps it alive…all that's been experimented on all to Hell. It would take some kind of god damn miracle…"

"Well…you made it through the first trimester, didn't you? That's when the danger of miscarriage is the greatest. If she can get through that, she can get through anything."

"She?" Natasha asked, a bitter smile taking up residence on her face.

"Well, yes. What else is Natasha Romanoff going to have but a baby girl," Pepper said, her own smile reassuring.

"I'd say congratulations…but I get the feeling I should hold off on that until you've had a little more time to think about it," Steve said as he and Bucky moved back toward the door. "Clint wanted me to tell you he'll be in tonight."

"So you did get him to drop everything," Natasha said, shaking her head.

"He said he was done. It…it's not a _bad_ thing, Natasha," he said, the look on his face before he and Bucky disappeared a mix of disparate emotions…torn between happiness and…longing?

When Clint finally did arrive, so late at night as to nearly be early morning, he slipped into the room he and Natasha shared to find her sleeping, and though he was surprised that his entrance didn't rouse her, he didn't question it. He was just relieved to find her safe. He slipped under the covers with her, draping an arm protectively around her middle, hand resting unknowingly against their growing child.

XxX

_Normally, if his dreams take him beyond the stars, it's to a place of nightmares and pain. Loki visits him in sleep, reminding him of what he really is…that he can never be truly whole again…that part of him will always belong to the icy darkness. This dream is different, though. He finds himself carried to a distant moon, to a labyrinth underground where a home has been carved out of the stone. A young woman is lying on a bed there, twisting restlessly as her very pregnant belly throbs slightly, her face creased in misery._

"_They're late…they're overdue…late. I don't know what to do," she cries helplessly. "They just don't want to be born. It hurts…it hurts so much. Father…Mother…**Brother**…my brother…what can I do?" she sobs to the seemingly empty air._

_Ignoring his misgivings, ignoring the warning bell in the back of his head that says he ought to know this voice, he approaches the dark-haired woman, repelled yet drawn to her in a way he can't explain. Reaching a hand out, he rests it on her swollen stomach, feeling the restless movements of the two unborn babies. In his mind, he sees a little girl with dark eyes, and dark curly hair beside a little boy with blonde locks and the face of a cherub. It's **them** he's drawn to._

"_Sing to them," he says softly._

"_What?" she whispers in agony, her eyes still closed._

"_Sing," he repeats. It's what he used to do for Steve back when they were still little boys in the orphanage. He'd been dropped on the doorstep of the boys' home probably minutes after being born…a bloody little infant wrapped in a dirty rag. Steve had been different, though. He had known his mother…had known her love…and he missed her terribly. So when the young boy had unthinkingly confided to him that his mother used to sing him to sleep, Bucky had become that anchor for him. Even though they weren't supposed to, they'd snuck into each other's beds at night and Bucky would hold Steve close, singing to him until he fell asleep. He does the same thing now, because he knows how well it works…recalling the old songs from the past._

_**Sleep my baby, at my breast,**_

'_**Tis a mother's arms round you.**_

_**Make yourself a snug, warm nest.**_

_**Feel my love forever new.**_

_**Harm will not meet you in sleep,**_

_**Hurt will always pass you by.**_

_**Child beloved, always you'll keep,**_

_**In sleep gentle, mother's breast nigh.**_

_Under the soothing power of the lullaby, the restless movements gradually begin to calm, until the woman lies still on the bed. Then she begins to chuckle bitterly._

"_That's the first time in months she's been still. Our daughter seems to like you…my little soldier."_

_Then the woman opens her eyes and Bucky is struck by the horribly familiar piercing green of them. As those eyes stare into him, his life seems to unravel around him and he is enthralled once more…he is the Winter Soldier again._

Bucky awoke with a sharp gasp, his still-sleepy gaze darting anxiously around the room, searching for the threat, but ultimately, his eyes fell on Steve, curled up beside him in their bed, and still sleeping peacefully. Somehow, the sight managed to calm him and his breathing began to slow to a normal pace. The strength of his gaze seemed to reach him, though, because the super soldier groggily opened his eyes.

"Buck…you all right?" he mumbled sleepily, knowing his lover still had nightmares as well as he did.

"Yeah…m'fine," he whispered back, leaning in to kiss Steve's forehead. "Go back to sleep, shrimp."

Steve smiled at him as he pulled him snuggly against his chest once again, nuzzling him.

"This is real," he whispered as he began to doze again. "You're alive…real…love you…"

The words were like knives in Bucky's chest, keeping him awake. Stark had been threatening him pretty much constantly…but how could he possibly tell Steve he was dying…when he said things like _that?_ It would break him.

Already, his nightmare was nearly forgotten…except for the flash of green and the sight of brown and blonde hair…

_What can I do? What can I do? How do I keep __**you**__ from getting hurt…Steve? I've tortured you so much already… _

XxX

(A/N) So, yeah, incase you couldn't tell, this story's gonna have a lot of pregnancy and a lot of babies, but don't worry. It'll all come together in the end.

One note, the lullaby Bucky was singing is called Suo Gan, if anyone happens to know it.


	3. Something Old, Something New

(A/N) Thanks to all you lovely reviewers and followers. It seems I've got you good and riled up now. Ready for some more?

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 3: Something Old, Something New_

In the past, Natasha's reaction to waking with an arm around her would have been to break the arm. She didn't typically leave herself in situations where that would be an issue. But over the past few months, it was actually something she'd gotten used to…whenever she and Clint were both home from assignments. They had enjoyed a relatively healthy sex life for the past three months, but somehow, she had the feeling _it_ had happened that first time…out on the balcony. Sometime during the night, both of their hands had somehow come to be resting against her stomach…and said stomach began to growl when Natasha realized she was smelling bacon and pancakes.

Slowly disentangling herself from her partner, Natasha rose from the bed and found that someone had left them breakfast.

_Thank you, Pepper,_ she thought as she moved toward the small table, going straight for the pot of coffee between the two breakfast trays. No doubt the woman who was crazy enough to love Tony Stark had understood that this would be a somewhat difficult morning for her.

"Morning," Clint's voice came from the bed. Natasha winced; she'd been hoping she'd have a _little_ more time than that.

"You doing okay?" he asked when she didn't respond.

"Better," she lied.

"What's this bullshit about the Red Room?"

"I don't know," she answered as she gathered up her mug and plate, coming back to sit beside him on the bed. "We don't know much more than what Rodgers probably already told you."

"And you'd never seen this woman before?" Clint pressed.

"No. If she _was_ from the Red Room…and she must have been; how would she know about it otherwise?...she wasn't part of my group. She must be from a later batch," she mused, shoving half a syrup-soaked pancake in her deceptively dainty mouth, which Clint watched in fascination.

"But…that's impossible, isn't it? I mean…we torched the place ourselves."

"Well…a lot of impossible things are proving to be possible recently," she said, her gut clenching horribly with nerves. For a moment, she felt almost too sick to keep eating, but her demanding stomach hotly protested that notion, and it didn't take her too much longer to polish off her plate of food completely.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked her suspiciously.

Sighing, Natasha pushed her plate away. Then she reached over and took his hand in hers.

"Nat, what…what's wrong?" he asked, his own innards tightening in fear at the resigned look on her face.

"Clint, there's…no easy way to tell you this, so I'm just going to show you. JARVIS? Could you bring up the scans from yesterday?"

"Yes, Agent Romanoff."

With that, the very same scans that had torn her life apart only yesterday appeared in front of them…and when Clint finally realized what he was seeing, he turned to her with a look of shocked wonder on his face.

"Nat…Natasha, you…you're really…"

She nodded, struggling not to cry at how happy he looked. "For now, anyway."

"How? I mean…how did it happen?"

"I don't know. It shouldn't be possible…but somehow this kid made it through the first trimester without me even knowing…and still doing all the things I usually do."

"Well, our kid," Clint chuckled, reaching out a hand to lay it on her belly. "What else would she be but a total badass?"

"Again with the 'she'?" Natasha asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Pepper said that, too."

"I dunno. It just…feels right, I guess."

For a moment, it was almost nice. For a moment, they were just a regular couple, reveling in the fact that they would be parents…but then Natasha remembered who she was…_what_ she was…and her eyes began to glisten with horrified sadness.

"Clint…we both know this can't last. Let's just both do ourselves a favor and…stop this…before something happens…"

The archer's expression turned serious at this and he pulled her across the bed and into his lap, being infinitely gentle.

"You can bullshit the others all you want, but I _know_ you, Natasha Romanoff…and I _know_ you want this. Why won't you let yourself have it?"

"What if I lose it?" she whispered as she rested her head against his chest, knowing she couldn't lie to him. "I don't…think I could take it."

"And what if you _don't_ lose her?" Clint suggested, gently rubbing her back as he held her. "What if you end up with something you always wanted? We'll tell Fury; he'd definitely give you some extended leave time, considering the circumstances. I can work harder to cover for you so you can rest…and I'll protect you," he said, the last bit barely a whisper.

"I seem to recall we had a talk about you protecting me," she said, finally looking up at him. Her eyes were red, but her face was dry.

"That was before you were pregnant…and before we knew the Red Room might be active again…'cuz if they are, they'll come after you. You _know_ that. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you _or_ the baby."

Natasha sighed again (she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately). "You would make an absolutely perfect father…and I can see how much you care about this thing already. What if I let you down? Could you handle that? I don't think I could take losing _your baby_, Clint. It's a part of _you_, too."

Clint smiled wearily at her before kissing her lips, whispering against them, "Tasha…you can't be so afraid of losing something you never try to have it. Where would you and I be if we did that? Besides…you _won't_ lose this baby."

"Well, _you_ seem supremely confident."

"Of course, I am, 'cuz it's just not gonna happen. Simple as that. Everything's gonna be all right."

"I hope even _you_ realize how dangerous it is to say something like that," she sniped, though she still clung to him. Despite the fact that everything in her experience had taught her that kind of hope was foolish, she still _wanted_ to believe him, _wanted_ to put her faith in him and let him take care of her. Was that so wrong?

"It _will_, though," he insisted as he stroked her hair. "It _will_ be all right."

XxX

Steve had to admit he was a little surprised when Fury called him and Bucky in to consult with the R&D department. Whatever they had to say to them, they probably wouldn't understand it anyway. However, when they were greeted at the research facility in New Mexico by Bruce, Betty, and another scientist they'd never met before, all three looked very somber.

"Steve, Bucky, I don't believe you've met Dr. Sinthea Schmidt before," Betty said by way of introduction. "She's head of biotechnology."

"Steve Rodgers," he said as he shook her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am."

"Yes," she began as she shook Bucky's hand. "I know who you are, both of you…and I suppose, in a way, you know me, too."

"Ma'am?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. He was fairly certain they'd never met before.

"Schmidt, Captain. My last name is Schmidt. My mother was the daughter of the man they called the Red Skull."

For a moment, neither Steve nor Bucky knew how to react. If there _was_ a family resemblance, it would be difficult to see, of course. Really, Sinthea Schmidt looked like any regular thirty-five-year-old woman you'd meet on the street: average build, tan complexion from working in the field, blue eyes, long dark hair. If there was a resemblance, it was buried deep.

"Was that really necessary?" Betty asked her colleague, raising an eyebrow.

"Just getting it out on the table now. We're all friends here."

"So…how did you…come to be here?" Steve asked awkwardly, not quite sure how to phrase his curiosity.

"You mean why am I American and not German," she said frankly. "That's what America is for, isn't it? Though, I suppose my own story is a little more interesting than a jaunt through Ellis Island. You do know that Peggy Carter rescued Dr. Abraham Erskine when Johann Schmidt had him in captivity?"

"Yes."

"Well, when they left Germany, they had a little baby with them. As I imagine you know, that man was obsessed with the idea of creating superior beings, so of course he wanted an heir…and he was enraged when the woman he chose produced a daughter instead of a son. He might have killed my mother…were it not for Agent Carter's timely extraction of the doctor. My grandmother begged them to take her along and Erskine, having just recently learned his own children were dead, actually took pity on the baby girl…and convinced Agent Carter to let him bring her. He raised her as his own…for the short amount of time they had together."

"I…I'm sorry," Steve said, knowing exactly how short that time must have been.

"Don't be sorry for me, Captain. It's a story from my childhood. Considering your history with my family, I just thought you ought to know."

"Story time over then?" Bruce asked. "We _do_ have a few things to discuss."

"Right. Why _did_ Fury want us to meet with you?" Steve asked,

"Remember that vial of blue glop I lent you guys when you were fighting that Croc guy a few months back?" Bruce asked them.

"Yeah."

"Well…there might be a problem," the scientist said as he led the group through the lab and into a small operating theatre off to the side of the main area. Laid out on the operating table was the gutted laser from their battle with the Red Room agent.

"What kind of problem?" Bucky asked.

"Either of you gentlemen ever hear of Roswell?" Dr. Schmidt asked, expecting looks of understanding and curiosity, as she did whenever she worked with a batch of new recruits. She was met instead with blank stares.

"Not…really," Bucky said slowly.

Sinthea shook herself. "Right. After your time. Sorry. In 1947, there was some kind of crash near the town of Roswell, New Mexico. The government claimed it had been an experimental weather balloon that crashed, but rumors persisted of a UFO crash and of alien visitations. All true, of course," she said, waiting for a reaction and having to remind herself she wasn't going to get one from these two. "Anyway…there were no extraterrestrial survivors the night of the crash, but there was substantial cargo recovered from the wreckage."

"Those hundreds of vials you told us about…" Steve said, beginning to connect things.

"Uh-huh," Bruce said with a nod. "Alien cargo from the Roswell crafts. It's been studied thoroughly over the years and nobody could crack it. The only real surprise was that Croc knew it existed at all. Until recently, it was thought to be a neutral substance."

"Until recently?" Bucky pressed.

"This gun you guys brought back from your last fight? This thing has a power core composed entirely of whatever that stuff is," he explained as he approached the table and began to connect a few of the stripped components.

"But if it's neutral-" Steve started to argue.

"On its own, it's neutral," Betty interrupted as Bruce worked. "Combine it with a few catalysts and it's a different story."

"This right here," Bruce continued to explain, holding up a small wire array and inserting it into the large glass container of blue glop that served as the weapon's power core, "is composed of some kind of alien mineral. It's nothing we've ever encountered before, but when you hook the system up and give it a charge, _bam!_ Hell on Earth," he finished, flicking a switch and causing the container of glop to begin glowing again.

"So…what? You're telling me we've got a ticking time bomb under our feet?" Steve asked.

"Not necessarily," Sinthea picked up the explanation. "You see, that wiring array is the catalyst that makes it work. We tried duplicating the array with terrestrial materials and we couldn't even get a spark. Whatever that mineral is, that's the key."

"But that's not so much what you're worried about," Bucky said as his eyes roved over the gun. "A weapon without someone to wield it isn't very dangerous. It's the wielder you wanna worry about."

"Exactly. The worry here is how did the Red Room, or HYDRA, for that matter, get a hold of this stuff?" Bruce asked, tapping the glowing blue container.

"You think it has something to do with that vial we never recovered?" Steve speculated as Bruce began to deconstruct the laser yet again.

"Could be, but more troublesome than that even…is the question of where they got the catalyzing technology _from_."

"Loki," Bucky said quietly.

"One possibility," Betty agreed.

"So why'd you call us down here?" Bucky asked, shaking himself out of the trance the thought of the Asgardian had put him in. "All of this could have been explained over the phone pretty easy."

"Granted. The thing is, we've tried using the tech from the Chitauri invasion as catalyzers, to see if we might get a different kind of reaction, but we've had no luck," Sinthea explained. "As of right now, there's only one other piece of alien tech on the planet that we know of."

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked, glancing between the three of them.

"Me," Bucky answered for them, raising his mech arm. "This thing."

"Yes," Sinthea said.

Several minutes of silence ensued in which Steve glanced back and forth between Bucky and the three doctors while the two parties just stared at each other. Finally, Steve's gaze fixed itself on the scientists, his expression warning.

"He's not a piece of equipment, you guys. That hardware _is_ attached, you know? What if you take it off and you can't reattach it?"

"We weren't really planning to take it off," Sinthea said, keeping eye contact with Bucky.

"Oh…no…" Steve whispered as he finally got it. "_Hell_, no! You're telling me you want him to just stick his hand in that jar and _hope_ it doesn't blow us all sky high? Are you _crazy?_"

"In order to understand this substance, we need to know more about what it reacts to," Sinthea explained, sounding perfectly levelheaded. "If Loki is somehow behind this, there's a good chance these two things could be connected, and don't we have an obligation to pursue a possible connection?

"This could _kill_ him!" Steve shouted. "What if you connect him to it and it electrocutes him or something?"

"Steve," Bucky said calmly, laying his still-flesh hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. We need to get to the bottom of this…and I'm not exactly helpless. If there's any trouble, I should be able to contain it," he reminded him, allowing a spark of power to travel between them.

"Bucky…" Steve said as he turned to face him, raising a hand to run it gently along the side of his face.

"It's gonna be fine. I promise," he said, taking Steve's face in his hands and pressing a quick but searing kiss to his lips before going over to the table where Bruce was waiting.

"Don't worry," Bruce cajoled as he hooked several sensors up to the mech arm, the container, and Bucky's head. "Odds are we won't even get a reaction. We've got everything under control here."

"Yeah? Well, forgive me if your previous track record with human experimentation doesn't inspire much confidence," Steve growled at his friend. Bruce visibly stiffened at the comment, but managed to continue with his work, taking a step back when the set up was complete.

"Whenever you're ready," Sinthea encouraged him.

Nodding, Bucky touched the tip of one metal finger to the gloppy surface of the blue substance.

The reaction was instantaneous. The blue glop morphed to an angry red color, glowing again as it began to bubble, almost as if the container had been super-heated. An eerie half-hissing, half-shrieking sound echoed throughout the room. Then the stuff actually started to crawl out of the container, dragging its way up Bucky's arm.

Bucky didn't see the reactions to what was happening. Almost immediately, the room around him vanished and he began to see things…

…_the Red Skull's face appearing through a curtain of flames…a hand grasping the Tesseract…then literally being torn apart…ripped across distances…yet somehow still living…_

"_Puny human child…you understand **nothing**."_

…_shut away in an abyss without any light…for years, so many **years**…_

"_The Asgardian has failed…and I'm sure you understand what will happen if **you** fail."_

_Burning, burning, burning…always burning, always falling, always **agony**…_

_**The sniper…his friend…his **_soul_**…you are not…the one I need…but you will prove useful…**_

_Unbidden, an image of Steve swims to the surface…smiling…laughing…love…life… light…everything._

**I love you.**

**_Ah…_**

"_**NO!**__" he screams. "_**You can't touch him! He isn't yours! He's **_**mine!**__"_

_**Mine…Captain America…Steve Rodgers…**_mine!

_Bucky screams as the fire burns him away, layer by layer…but this isn't like screaming with his lungs. His soul cries out…his very existence screams in agony._

"Bucky! Bucky, can you hear me?!"

"Steve…?"

_**Amerika.**_

"Come on, Buck; you've gotta fight it! You can beat this thing!"

_Steve is here…holding him…but he's too close. The grasping, killing fire reaches past him, __**through**__ him…reaching for his angel…_

_**Mine!**_

"_NOO!_" Bucky shrieked, focusing his magic with every ounce of will he possessed, creating a shield around the pulsing red _thing_ on his arm and peeling it off.

The moment he was free of it, Bucky collapsed against Steve, breathing hard and feeling weak as a kitten. He didn't even have the strength to return Steve's near-crushing embrace. He just lay in his arms, concentrating on moving air in and out of his lungs.

"Are you all right? Are you all right?" Steve repeated several times, checking him over for injuries.

"m'fine," he whispered against Steve's neck, not even trying to conceal how drained he was. He knew, after all, that it was more than exhaustion stemming from fighting off…whatever that thing was. The amount of magic he'd expended just now must surely have been massive. How many hours had he cut from his life? How many moments with Steve had he lost? How many breaths did he have left?

"What happened?" he managed to make himself ask as Steve slowly began to loosen his death grip, glancing over and seeing that the alien glop had already reverted to its dormant phase.

"That stuff went red when you touched it. Then it started to crawl up your arm…and your eyes went red and you started screaming," Steve recounted, shuddering at the memory now burned into his brain. "I tried to help you get it off, but you wouldn't let me near…wouldn't let me touch it."

"Steve," Bucky said sharply, feeling a little more of his strength return as he remembered exactly why that was. "I…I saw Skull…Schmidt. He was there. I saw him."

"He was where?"

"I…I don't know. I'm not…sure what happened just now…but I _saw_ him. I _know_ I did. I think…I think he was going to hurt you," he insisted, _needing_ for Steve to understand that something truly dangerous was happening here.

"Bucky…Schmidt's dead. I saw him die."

"So? You saw _me_ die, too. What does that mean?"

Looking supremely troubled by this, Steve slowly nodded. If HYDRA really was involved in all of this…maybe Schmidt could be, as well? After all…shouldn't he and Bucky have died seventy years ago, too?

"You saw Schmidt?" Sinthea's voice suddenly broke in on their conversation, her eyes slightly wide as she looked at them. Steve immediately tensed up, his position shifting into more of a protective crouch over his fiancée as he glared up at the scientist.

"I think we're done here. I certainly _hope_ that wasn't the reaction you were expecting," Steve hissed, holding Bucky a little closer. Sinthea at least had the decency to look guilty, her shoulders slumping as she watched them.

"No…of course not. We weren't expecting anything even a fraction of that magnitude. It would be dangerous to attempt such a thing again until we understand it better. I imagine we've got all the data we need from our little…misadventure."

"If I didn't think Fury'd have me court martialed, I'd _destroy_ your damn data…and even then…" Steve trailed off, glaring daggers at all of them.

"I really am sorry, Captain Rodgers."

"I _told_ you guys this was a bad idea, but nobody ever listens to _me_, do they. Who would ever listen to poor, naïve, little Steve Rodgers," he said as he stood up, easily lifting Bucky in his arms.

"Oh, no," Bucky protested. "There is _no_ way you're carrying me back to the jet."

"And there's no way you're walking back there, either. Case closed."

"You really ought to let someone look him over," Bruce suggested mildly as the two soldiers began to head out. All the doctor got for his trouble was another 'if looks could kill' face.

"Yeah, sure. Like I'd let anyone in this loony bin even look at him," he said before heading out, not letting the others see how shaken Bucky had been by the mere mention of an exam. After what he'd been through…first with Zola and then again with Loki…to say that Bucky didn't do well with doctors was putting it mildly. What Steve couldn't have known, though, was that Bucky's reaction wasn't just caused by the mention of seeing a doctor, but also by the last look Bruce had given him on their way out.

_How long are we going to pretend this isn't happening?_

"So…" Bucky started as Steve walked, "you think this Sinthea Schmidt might be involved somehow?"

"Can't rule it out," Steve said sternly, not really looking at him.

"What did you mean back there, anyway? About people not listening to you? They listen to you all the time. You're kinda the field commander."

"You can shut up, too, you jerk," Steve finally bit at him. "_You_ went along with their plan."

"I thought I could handle it."

Suddenly, Steve stopped walking altogether, his eyelids blinking rapidly as he half fell, half leaned against the wall, sliding down until Bucky was sitting in his lap.

"Steve?"

"That's just the trouble, isn't it," Steve said, his voice echoing strangely in the subterranean corridor.

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked him, feeling awkward just sitting there, but feeling he shouldn't separate himself from Steve just now.

"Y'know…Buck…I think I understand how you must have felt…back before the war…when we were teenagers…kids…and I used to pretty much _ask_ to get the stuffing knocked outta me…did so much really _stupid shit_," he remembered…and for each memory, remembering the look on Bucky's face that had gone along with it. "I didn't understand how much it hurt you…that I didn't care whether or not I lived."

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, glancing slightly away from him. "That was hard."

"During the war…it didn't matter so much. That first time…I saved you from dying…and it just felt like we were invincible. I didn't understand…what it was like to _lose_ you," Steve murmured, feeling his throat tighten as he spoke. "But then…then you fell…and I _did_ understand."

"Steve…"

"I feel like…I can't stop worrying. I'm terrified that if I look away, I'll wake up and find I was dreaming…that I really did lose you…and I can never find you again. And you go and do these _stupid_ things like it doesn't matter…like you're not important. I…I have nightmares-"

"We both do," Bucky tried to console him.

"Not like this. I'm reaching for you…and I end up holding handfuls of dust. I'm kissing you and you just…vanish…slip through my fingers. I scream for you…and I can hear them all…Schmidt, Loki…telling me you're dead…that I couldn't save you. I don't know why I feel this way, Buck. I _know_ you can handle yourself. I _know_ I won't lose you…but I can't help it. There were too many I couldn't save," he said, resting his forehead against Bucky's. There were no tears on his face, but they were thick in his voice.

Bucky couldn't speak…could hardly breathe for how tight his throat had become. What could he say…when Steve was feeling so insecure like this…and he had just gone and recklessly thrown away even more of their precious time today? Tony was right. This was the absolute shittiest thing you could do to someone you love. Bucky drew a shuddering breath as he wrapped his arms tightly around Steve, personally consigning himself to the deepest circle of Hell for the horrible person he was.

"I'm here," he soothed, gently nuzzling his lover. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," he lied as they cuddled together, just hugging, touching, needing to be reassured of the other's presence.

Would he even _live_ long enough to see Steve become his husband?

XxX

(A/N) Anybody catch the Firefly reference? Yeah, I'd say next chapter we're gonna stop angsting and actually start upping the stakes.


	4. Dearly Beloved

(A/N) As always, praise be unto all my lovely followers. If you guys haven't seen it yet, I actually wrote a little one shot companion piece for these stories that's up over in the Captain America section, if you're at all interested. Also, before we begin, if you listen in on Fury's conversations with the council in the movie, one of them sounds to be Russian, so I think what happens here is totally plausible. Little things.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 4: Dearly Beloved_

In the middle of the fifth month of her pregnancy, Natasha Romanoff was long sick of being off active duty. In fact, she was bored right out of her skull. She knew it was all for the best, of course, but she couldn't deny she missed the thrill of a good fight, the exhilaration of the hunt…but her work clothes had become just a little too tight as her stomach had started to swell. It wasn't very big yet, but it was big enough; and somehow, in spite of everything, the baby had continued to thrive in what Natasha was certain must be a very hostile environment. Clint and Pepper had turned out to be right; JARVIS had determined just yesterday that the baby was a girl. While she and Clint hadn't decided on a name yet, they _had_ decided it wouldn't be safe for their daughter to share either of their surnames, so she would be called Romanova, Natasha's original surname.

Currently, Natasha was sitting in on one of Fury's sessions with the council, which had never happened to her before, but according to the director, the council had asked for her. There didn't seem to be any particular reason why so far.

Of the four of them, three had done the talking thus far: an American man, a British woman, and an Asian man. The fourth, though, whom she couldn't help but think looked somewhat familiar, had been silent the entire time. He was a balding man, and he looked Russian from what she could see of him, but she wouldn't know anything more specific until he actually spoke.

"So…let me see if we've understood you," the American said. "The Roswell cargo was found to be reactive with alien materials, more specifically with Agent Barnes' mechanical prosthetic?"

"That's so," Fury said stiffly, knowing none of these bastards needed to hear the information again. They just liked to watch him twist.

"And this information was kept off official S.H.I.E.L.D. record. Why?"

"Because we've got nothing else to go on. A simple reaction isn't much to work with," the director lied. If their plans for the Tesseract were any indication, he shuddered to think what they could do with the reaction recorded in New Mexico, and somehow Fury didn't think Steve would appreciate him selling his fiancée down the river into weapons development. Whether they believed it or not, Nick Fury looked out for his people.

"As we understand the situation, it was _far_ more than a simple reaction," the Brit pointed out. "I understand it might have taken Agent Barnes' life were he not an adept magic user."

"Probably true," Fury said, reminding himself to find out where these guys were getting their information from.

"So why isn't this avenue being pursued?" the American asked.

"Remember the part where Agent Barnes nearly _died?_ That prosthetic isn't just a piece of tech; it's part of him. We can't ask him to just tear pieces off of it so we can experiment."

"Well…perhaps experimentation to see if there's a way to duplicate the reaction with terrestrial materials?" he suggested.

"That's a good idea. Waltz up to the one S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who's undergone experimentation and _torture_ at the hands of HYDRA and the Nazis and ask him if we can play with his body. Yeah, good luck with that, council members."

"Director Fury, are you refusing to allow this council access to Agent Barnes?" the woman asked.

"Not…refusing, no," Fury said lightly. "Just warning you. If you want James Barnes, you're gonna have to go through Captain America, not S.H.I.E.L.D., and if you even casually threaten his fiancée's safety, well…I really just can't guarantee Captain Rogers' continued loyalty to this organization."

"Where is Agent Barnes now?" the Asian man asked.

"Richmond, I believe. He, the captain, and Agent Barton are currently responding to a threat from a terrorist organization claiming to be the defunct HYDRA."

"And they'll be off-duty soon?" the American asked.

"Fairly…assuming everything's going well," Fury said, not liking the direction this was going.

"In that case, you will inform us the moment Agent Barnes returns to the Helicarrier," the woman said.

"Sure," Fury said, meaning he would more likely warn the soldier pair to make themselves scarce for a while. "I take it we're done here," he said, not waiting for the council's permission before turning to head out of the conference room with Natasha close behind.

"Not you, Agent Romanoff," the fourth voice broke in the moment Fury was outside the door, but Natasha was not. The Black Widow froze like the proverbial deer in the headlights upon hearing the voice. Fury only had time to turn and see the horrified look on his agent's face before the door snapped closed between them.

"Romanoff?" Fury called, keying in the code to open the door, but not all that surprised when it didn't work. "Romanoff, do you copy?" he started to shout into his comm, pounding a fist against the sealed door. "_Romanoff!_"

Natasha could hear him, but she couldn't quite respond. Struggling to mask the terror she knew must be in her eyes, she turned to face the screens again. The other three had gone dark, leaving only the last one lit, and she could see his face clearly now. He was older, and there had been a lot of plastic surgery done since she'd last seen him, but she still knew his face…his voice. She could never forget, no matter how badly she wanted to.

"Hello, my dear little Tasha."

"You," she whispered. "You can't be…you're _dead_."

"Did you really think you could destroy me so easily, Natasha? I _did_ create you, after all."

Grigori Drakoff. The head of the Red Room Project. The man who had created her as surely as her own father had.

Drakoff's daughter.

XxX

The situation on the ground in Richmond was no less crazy. Four men had shown up in the city laying claim to the name HYDRA and sporting weapons powered by what they had all come to affectionately call Roswell Slime.

Clint and the WWII vets had managed to draw the fight away from the city, but the more open ground left them less opportunity for cover. Clint was in the process of firing a volley of exploding arrows at the man he was covering when Natasha's distraught voice sounded in his earpiece.

"Clint…he's here."

"I'm a little busy, Nat. What the Hell's going on up there?"

"It's _him_. Clint…he's not dead. We were wrong. He's _here_."

_Oh, God._

XxX

"Fury! What the fuck's going on up there?! Talk to me, damn it!"

"I don't _know!_" Fury shouted back at the angry marksman in his earpiece. "Something sealed Natasha into the conference room. She's not talking. Are _you_ getting something from her?"

"Nick…it's Drakoff."

"Fuck," the director hissed, not thinking to question for one minute that one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s longtime adversaries was not dead, as had previously been thought.

"Drakoff…and she's _alone_ in there with him. You've gotta _do_ something."

"Doing. I've got half the damn bridge working to get this thing open and we've got nothing short of blowing it, and we both know we can't risk that."

"We'll clean up down here and get back. These guys aren't so tough," Clint said, going for his usual cavalier attitude in order to mask how truly worried he was.

XxX

Clued into what was going on through their own earpieces, Bucky and Steve understood Clint's urgency to get back to the carrier, even though they didn't entirely understand what was happening.

Steve had taken a bad hit to his left leg early in the fight, so Bucky was covering for him. Between them, the two soldiers were covering three of the terrorists, and the first one to get within ten feet of them took a bullet right between the eyes.

Moving in circles, the two stood back to back, fighting as one. While Bucky kept his sights on one, Steve kept an eye out for the other, who seemed to have disappeared.

"Make a move, punk," Bucky hissed under his breath as his adversary circled them at a distance. Then, suddenly, he was running forward in a full frontal assault that had zero chance of success. Bucky easily took him out, but the moment he fired the shot, the second man appeared almost from nowhere and barreled right into him, tackling him to the ground. Immediately, his assailant latched onto a bit of paneling in his mech arm, tearing it free. As Bucky cried out in pain, Steve was already in motion, sending his shield on a collision course with the terrorist's neck. The man's spinal cord was severed before he could even scream.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked, quickly rushing to his lover's side.

"It's fine," Bucky said as he retrieved the broken piece of his arm from his assailant's dead fingers. "Nothing Stark can't fix."

"Okay. If you're all right here, I'm gonna help Barton with this last guy."

"Go get 'em, Cap."

XxX

"What do you want?" Natasha asked, standing tall before the video screen, even though what she really wanted to do was dissolve in a weeping mess.

"My lovely Black Widow, you didn't honestly think you could just crush my life's work and then walk away unscathed, did you? You never escaped me. I've always been watching over you. You are, after all, my greatest creation. But the phoenix has risen from the ashes you left us in all those years ago. We are stronger than we ever were before…and I mean to make you _pay_ for what you did."

"Stronger?" Natasha pressed. "In your partnership with HYDRA, you mean?"

"Just so. Our two groups have had a very…mutually beneficial relationship thus far, and we are soon to reap the benefits of that relationship."

"What sort of benefits?"

"Your child, for one," he started right off the bat. "Your little girl will be the first in a new breed of Red Room agent."

"Like _Hell_ are you touching her," Natasha snarled, hand going to her gun, more out of a sense of comfort than actually thinking it would help anything. "You'll have to come through me, Clint, the other Avengers, _and_ S.H.I.E.L.D. if you want her."

"But S.H.I.E.L.D. is what will make it all _possible_."

"What do you mean?"

"No, no, no, no," Drakoff chided her. "That's for you to find out. Besides, I think your baby's father will be fairly easy to go through."

"Do you think you can scare me? He's worth ten of your agents. He won't be taken out so easily."

"Perhaps he _was_ worth ten of the old model, and I don't _think_ I can scare you; I _know_ it. After all, who knows you better than I do? I know exactly what buttons to press to turn you to me."

"The only way I'm going back to you is over my own rotting corpse."

"No…over your _friends'_ rotting corpses, because that's exactly how this is going to play out."

"If this is supposed to be intimidating, you need to work on your tactics," Natasha lied. "I've faced down gods. You're not exactly scary by comparison." Utter bullshit, of course. Natasha knew exactly what this man was capable of. He wasn't grossly overconfident or any kind of grandiose as Loki had been. The absolute right of his own decisions and the certainty of his own superiority were simply facts to him…like gravity or the Earth's orbit around the sun. He was truly dangerous.

"You lie so well, my Widow. It's probably the only thing that's kept you alive this long. Tell me, does he know you don't really love him? Does your archer know you aren't even _capable_ of love?"

"If you think I-" Natasha's voice suddenly died in her throat and her hand drifted to her belly. Something was kicking gently against the inside of her stomach. It was the first time she'd ever felt the little one move. In truth, she'd been starting to worry about it. Jane's little boy moved pretty much constantly, but this baby had never moved. Were it not for JARVIS constantly reassuring her the child was healthy, she might have thought she was already dead. Drakoff began to chuckle at the look on her face.

"I can see you need some time alone with your thoughts. We'll talk again soon…but Natasha, please don't delude yourself into thinking you have the capacity to care for either of them. It will only make things more difficult in the end. You-"

Before he could finish, Natasha whipped out her gun and shot out the screen, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as she watched his face splinter and devolve into static. As she sank to her knees, the door finally slid open, admitting Fury and several other agents. Fury immediately swept over to her and knelt in front of her.

"Natasha?" he asked urgently, guiding her face up to look at him. "Natasha, look at me. You all right?"

"Yeah," she answered, though she shook slightly.

"What happened?"

"Drakoff," she whispered, nodding vaguely at the destroyed screen. "Couldn't get anything useful from him, so I got rid of him."

"You did good, Romanoff," he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "We're gonna get you to a medic, ASAP. I know you don't need it," he continued before she could argue, "but we at least need to make sure the kid's all right."

"Yeah…yeah…fine," she said, allowing Sharon to help her stand and lead her out of the conference room.

Fury, meanwhile, was examining the splintered screen, all the other agents heading back to their duties until it was just him and Maria.

"So what are you thinking, Sir?" she asked him, standing off to the side to allow him space to think.

"I'm thinking…we're in boiling hot water," Fury said, finally turning to look at her. "Because the only thing this can mean…is that Grigori Drakoff is on the World Security Council."

XxX

The last of the HYDRA agents went down easily enough. While Clint kept him distracted, Steve was able to knock the weapon from his hands with his shield. As Clint closed in on him, arrow drawn, Steve approached from the side and delivered a nasty blow to his head, laying him out flat.

"Well, at least we got one of 'em," Steve said.

"Fury, we're clear down here. We've got one still alive and a bit of a mess for cleanup. What's going on with Natasha?"

"She's fine. He's gone. You'll probably want to get back here, though."

"Can do…though…on second thought…we might need medical down here," Clint said slowly as he glanced in Bucky's direction.

Something was wrong.

XxX

The twins were about a month overdue when Loki finally began to feel the first contractions. He had read about the process and he thought he understood what was going to happen. He would be fine. He could handle this…

…or so he'd thought. Then the pain really began…then the labor wore on for hours…and Loki remembered the screams of Asgardian women he had overheard…those who had cried, fainted, begged for mercy…_died_ even. He had once thought them weak; after all, how bad could it really be? But now _he_ was the one on the bed, screaming, struggling desperately to be delivered of this unbearable agony. The women of the court at least had the luxury of having their senses dulled by a healer's touch. He had no such luxury…no help. He was alone, and he had to be completely aware every minute. If he survived this, he knew he would never look down on another woman ever again.

Just when the trickster was certain he would die…that he would sleep and finally end the torture, his daughter was born, fittingly drawing a torrent of blood from his already wasted body.

Using a blade to cut the birth cord free, he gently pulled her into his arms to look at her. The baby girl's skin was blue, the color of a Jotunn…and she was cold…so very cold, the blood on her skin quickly congealing into rivulets of red ice as she wailed in displeasure.

"Hel," he whispered to her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He would have loved several more hours to just hold her, to look at her, every little detail, but he was soon interrupted by another stabbing pain in his womb. Her brother was ready to be born.

The boy didn't take nearly as long as his sister. He came quickly, but his skin wasn't blue as Hel's was. It was ashen, _lifeless_.

"No," Loki whispered as he cut the little boy free of his body and pulled him into his arms. How could he stop this? What could he do? He had power, yes, but not for this. He had no concept of what it was to heal another person.

"Help! Help me!" he cried out reaching out to the only person he could…the only person who _could_ help…

…and Bucky heard the call. He didn't understand what was happening, but he could feel the desperation as keenly as if it were his own.

_He's dying! Help me! __**Save him!**_

He didn't know why, but it was the same feeling he got when he _knew_ Steve was in danger…and he had always known, even when they were children. He didn't understand; he could _see_ Steve now, standing with Clint, perfectly fine…but some part of his heart still cried out that he was going to die, so he gave what was asked. He gave his life, his magic, and his time, and never even asked why…

…and he paid for it.

Galaxies away, the ashen color of death was banished from the baby boy's skin and he finally cried out, wriggling weakly in Loki's arms as the trickster breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fenrir," he whispered, also giving the boy a kiss before picking his sister back up. As he held the two of them together, contact with Fenrir's warm skin gradually began to thaw Hel and she soon looked like her brother, except that her tuft of hair was brown where his was blonde. It wasn't long before the twins were nestled securely at their mother's breasts, enjoying their first meal.

Bucky, on the other hand, had fallen. Once the transfer was complete, he just dropped, unable to hold himself up any longer. Unable to move, barely even able to breathe, all he could think in his last few minutes of consciousness was, _I __**can't**__ be out of time yet! Not now! Not now! No…Steve…_

Steve sprinted forward the moment he saw Bucky go down, crashing to his knees the moment he got to his side and gathering him in his arms.

"Bucky! Bucky, what's wrong?! Are you hurt?! Were you hit?!"

"Steve…Steve, I'm…sorry…" he whispered, trying to raise a hand, but unable to before his eyes slid shut.

"Bucky? Bucky?! _James?!_" he cried out, yanking his cowl off before fearfully pressing his ear to his fallen lover's chest.

Nothing. No heartbeat. No breath. Everything had gone horrifyingly silent.

"Oh, God…he's not breathing. He's not _breathing!_" he repeated helplessly as Clint ran up to them, pulling Bucky's lifeless body from Steve's arms and laying him flat, checking everything to be certain. Then the archer demanded Fury send medical before starting on chest compressions.

"Buck…no…don't do this to me. Not now…I can't lose you again," he whispered, taking Bucky's limp hand in his as Clint worked, squeezing the unresponsive fingers.

Clint continued to perform CPR, but it didn't seem to be doing anything. As the hopeless minutes passed, Steve began to feel tears pouring from his eyes and he did nothing to stop them.

"You God damn _bastard!_ You can't just leave me like this!" he shouted, pounding a fist against the ground beside Bucky's head. "Bucky…_please_…come back…_come back!_"

_You __**can't**__ die! You just __**can't!**__ Not like this! I can't live without you! I can't do it!_

"Bucky, please…I love you…"

"Cap…I'm sorry…it's just no good."

XxX

(A/N) Well…you guys wanted Steve to find out. Now he knows.


	5. For Better or Worse

(A/N) _Now_ do I have your attention? Heheh, dunno if you've noticed this about me yet, but I've got a bit of a hard on for ending chapters in that cliffhangery fashion.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 5: For Better or Worse_

Steve sat alone outside the med ward aboard the Helicarrier, head buried in his hands as he fumed in silent frustration and anguish. The moments following Clint's pronouncement were still a little bit hazy.

"_Cap…I'm sorry…it's just no good."_

He remembered screaming…shoving Clint to the side and continuing the motions himself.

"_Don't you fucking leave me here by myself! __**Bucky!**__"_

"_Cap, stop! He…he's…"_

_**Damn it. Damn it! DAMN IT!**_

_Suddenly, he was pushed aside and he looked up to see Clint crouched over Bucky once again. Reaching for an arrow from his quiver, he whipped it out and slammed it down on Bucky's chest. His body spasmed slightly as an electric current traveled through, but then he coughed and slowly started to breathe again. Clint backed off just in time for Steve to spring forward and gather Bucky in his arms again, giving strangled cries of relief as he kissed every inch of Bucky's face._

"_H-how?" he asked, glancing up at the archer._

"_Buzz arrow," Clint said, holding up the slender projectile. "Guess all he needed was a jolt. Not really what it was designed for, but…well…it **worked**, didn't it?" Clint asked, grinning._

_He nodded. "Thank you," he said earnestly, hugging his still-unconscious lover a little more tightly against his chest._

_**I couldn't have lived without him…not really.**_

_Clint sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Don't thank me just yet. There's…we've got a lot to talk about."_

He hadn't been exaggerating. To say that learning about Bucky's condition had been a shock was nothing less than an understatement. Though he felt hurt and betrayed, he knew he couldn't be angry with the others. It hadn't been their secret to tell.

"How is he?" he asked when Fury emerged from the ward.

"Stable for now. The docs are talking about implanting a miniaturized defibrillator in his chest. Might help until we can come up with a more permanent solution."

"De- what now?"

"A defibrillator. It's a machine that does the job you saw Barton do with his buzz arrow. They use miniature ones to treat heart patients."

"Do you think that would help?"

"Might. If the only issue we're gonna have here is his heart's gonna keep quittin' on him, something to jolt it might do the trick. If experience has taught me anything, it's that James Barnes is too stubborn to just lay down and die. Something to kick-start him might work for now…when he needs the extra push."

"And…a more permanent solution?" Steve pressed.

"As I understand it, Stark's been working with the Asgardians to come up with something, but the only solution they've got so far is the golden apples, and constantly needing to go after those just isn't any kind of feasible."

"I'd do it," Steve said immediately.

"Yeah, I know you would, but that's not the problem. What if it happens one day you can't do it fast enough? You'd spend the rest of your natural life beatin' yourself up over it. We need something a little more dependable."

"But…for now…he'll be okay?"

"He's sleeping. There's a cart handy if anything happens."

"Can I see him?"

"I'll let you know when he starts comin' around. For now, Dr. Schmidt wants to speak with you."

"What about?" Steve asked, stiffening slightly without really meaning to.

"The HYDRA agent you and Barton brought in. She got the cyanide cap off him while he was under…and of all of us, Cap, you've got the most experience dealing with HYDRA. Plus, she's pretty ecstatic over the new samples of slime you brought her."

Steve leaned his head back against the wall, sighing in frustration. "Is it an _order_ that I go speak to her, Sir?"

Fury eyed him for several moments before stating, "If it has to be."

XxX

Ever since the incident in New Mexico, Fury had decided it would be best to store the Roswell cargo aboard the Helicarrier. Specifically, the sample that had reacted. Sinthea had it out and was comparing it to one of the new ones Steve and Clint had brought in when the captain entered her lab.

"Still playing with that stuff?" Steve asked as he walked into the lab.

"No matter how many times I play, there will always be something new to discover," she said without looking up at him. Before she continued, she began to seal up the sample containers. "It's a little strange, isn't it?"

"What?"

"That you were able to bring the agent in so easily. If I recall the records correctly, the only one that was ever actually captured was Dr. Arnim Zola…and only because he _elected_ not to kill himself. He wasn't the typical cult follower my grandfather tended to gather to himself. He just happened to need his expertise. I'm sure you don't see it now because you've just been through something very traumatic, but something doesn't really wash here…something about this whole situation. For instance, why haven't we seen HYDRA's new god yet?"

"Their new _god?_"

"Yes. HYDRA was, first and foremost, a cult. Its ideologies were held together based around the concept of a superior being. You have no need of a beast with a million heads if you aren't holding up something mighty at your core. Why haven't we seen this new supreme head? What are they hiding?"

"You know a lot about them…for it being just a story from your childhood," Steve said, trying to sound casual and failing.

"Stories tend to stay with one. Johann Schmidt interests me is all."

"There was nothing interesting about him. He wasn't complicated. He was a monster, a murderer…_evil_," Steve snarled.

"As if it were really that simple," Sinthea said, remaining calm in the face of his anger.

"You didn't _know_ him."

"No…I didn't, but I know what my mother carried in her heart a long time after he was dead. She was afraid of him. Dr. Erskine instilled that fear in her, whether he meant to or not. Did you know she used the good doctor's name? My mother? Brynnhilde Erskine. I was born under that name, too…but I chose the name Schmidt for myself."

"Why? Why would you _do_ that? Why would you want to keep something like that alive in the world?"

"Schmidt is just a name, Captain…just a word on a piece of paper. I don't want to be defined by my mother's fear or my grandfather's hate, so I decided to make the name my own."

"Are you sure we haven't seen HYDRA's new leader yet? Can we be sure they haven't already raised a new god…or should I say _goddess_?" Steve asked, eyeing the doctor very pointedly. Sinthea took a step back, sighing in exasperation.

"What bothers you more, Captain…the fact that I endangered your love's life…or that I'm related to the Skull?"

"_He could have died!_" Steve exploded at her.

"He _did_ die today, and _you_ were the one who was with him, not me. I would never have proceeded with the experiment if he hadn't consented to it. I _do_ have morals. I'm a _scientist_."

"So was _he_."

Sinthea actually laughed at this. "No, he wasn't. Johann Schmidt was _brilliant_, granted, but he was _not_ a scientist. He had interest in only one goal, and he twisted the laws of nature and science around that goal, exactly like the Nazis he claimed to be above."

"And you're _still_ claiming he wasn't evil? The serum pretty much proved it, anyway."

"You're missing the point. It isn't evil; it's _obsession_…and it can occur in good people just as easily as it does in people like Schmidt."

"You say that now, Doctor, but you've spent your life in a lab. You can come talk to me after you really _have_ looked evil in the face."

"Haven't I?" she hissed in a way that was so much like the Skull, Steve could have almost sworn he'd taken a physical blow from it. "In case you're forgetting, that lab I've apparently spent my life in was a S.H.I.E.L.D. lab, and my specialty is biotechnology…weapons development. I see the things men do to each other. Is it any wonder people don't believe in heroes anymore? Why the world is so divided over the existence of the Avengers? We know what we are."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you _know_ why the world is so different from when you went under? It's because we can't _pretend_ anymore. We can't pretend to be a thing so simple as good versus evil. The people of your time could be as patriotic as they were because they could have the illusion that they were good, virtuous people battling the inhuman German monsters."

"They _were_ good people."

"Perhaps they were…but did they understand…did _you_ understand…that you'd _created_ the monster you were fighting? What happened in Germany was almost _predictable_ after the first world war. You Allies _created_ your own enemy. Is that really any less horrifying than what the Nazis did?"

"We didn't murder _children_," Steve argued, battling against the helpless anger he felt growing in his chest.

"Ah…you're talking about the Holocaust now. Perhaps _you_ didn't know what was happening at the time, but did you know your precious superiors knew _exactly_ what was going on…and they did nothing about it?"

"It…it's not that simple," Steve protested.

"Really? Because you seemed to think it was a few minutes ago. Do you know what else your "good people" did after the fighting was over? Those same soldiers dug up the Nazi mass graves, then rounded up German civilians, people who hadn't fought at all, and forced them to see the millions of the dead, stating in no uncertain terms, that it was _their fault_ it had happened."

"Stop it," Steve growled at her. "It was a war."

"At that point? It wasn't, actually. I'm inclined to believe it was at that point that we had to stop pretending we were any kind of decent anymore. We'd all _like_ to be decent, but we can't lie to ourselves about what we really are…deep down. We know we don't _deserve_ to be good. There _are_ no more men like you, Captain Rogers," she said, her air switching from anger to sadness all in an instant. "You were a dying breed even in your heyday. I don't believe Schmidt was so far off in saying you'd left humanity behind. The rest of us really are just human…and it's not such a bad thing to have left us behind."

Steve felt his own anger drain away just as quickly, only to be replaced by an equal amount of confusion. He'd been telling himself ever since he'd met her that this woman couldn't possibly understand, but now, seeing this part of her that she probably hadn't meant to reveal, he was left wondering. He didn't feel like he'd won anything, though. In fact, in this argument, it seemed that they'd _both_ lost.

"So…you were wondering why this agent didn't just bite the bullet when he saw he was losing?" he asked, deciding to just get back to business.

"Exactly," she said, clearly grateful for the switch in topics. "The only reason I can come up with is that HYDRA wanted someone on the inside."

"To do what? He's not going anywhere."

"So it would seem. Think you can get anything out of him?" she asked, leading the way out of the lab.

"Maybe…if I approach him the right way," he answered as they headed down to the prison block. "After all, it's like you said: they _are_ a cult."

The HYDRA agent was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cell when they arrived. His mask had been removed, revealing a pale, narrow face and a shaved head.

"Evening, Captain," he said, not even looking up when the footsteps stopped in front of his cell.

"You were expecting me."

"Oh, yes. After all, that's how it's always been, right? Captain America versus HYDRA. Versus Johann Schmidt. The Red Skull." Still he hadn't looked up.

"Don't know if you got the memo, but your organization was put down a long time ago. Schmidt's been dead for seventy years."

"Dead? Heheh, no. You cannot kill the Red Skull. He will _never_ die."

"If he's still around, how come he hasn't made his grand reappearance yet, huh? Why's he hiding?"

"Not hiding. _Never_ hiding. He's simply waiting for the right moment."

"And when's that supposed to be?"

"When it will do the greatest damage to _you_, of course, Captain Rogers."

"So you've spoken to Schmidt yourself, have you?"

"I've had that privilege, yes. If you want proof, just look into my eyes," he said, finally looking up at them…and revealing that the pupils of his eyes were a very distinct shade of crimson. "This mark is proof I've been chosen by him…as Skull's Own. I don't-"

Quite suddenly, the agent's voice died in his throat as his eyes fell on Sinthea.

"The vessel," he said reverently, his red eyes going impossibly wide. "The chalice who holds the blood."

At that, he began to crawl forward on all fours, reaching through the bars of his cell with grasping fingers.

"My Lady…one touch, I beg you. Just one touch…"

"Dr. Schmidt…maybe you should step out," Steve suggested, eyeing the man with pointed disgust.

"It's all right. We're all civilized people here," she said, though Steve definitely wouldn't want to see the madhouse society where _this_ man was considered civilized.

Slowly, Sinthea offered her hand to the agent, which he took in his own hands and gently caressed, running his face lovingly along her fingers. Sinthea looked both disgusted and fascinated all in the same expression, but whatever she thought of this man, she allowed him to continue…right up until the point when he bit her.

Yelping, Sinthea quickly yanked her hand back, seeing a tiny pool of blood well up in her palm.

"What the Hell was that for?!" Steve shouted at the agent, making a grab for him through the bars, but he quickly slithered back, licking his lips as he went.

"Ah," he moaned as he fell back, writhing slightly. "The sweet taste of God. The time's just about right, I think."

Before Steve could say anything more, though, Fury's voice sounded in his earpiece.

"Cap, do you copy?"

"Sir?"

"You might want to get yourself up to medical. Barnes is startin' to come around."

XxX

For a while, everything was pitch black. Somehow, he was grateful for this. He hadn't even expected to retain that much awareness after he…

What?

_After I died._

Was he dead? He couldn't be certain. He'd experienced other expanses of time just like this one and somehow come out alive at the end. He…remembered, though…was aware. That was good…wasn't it? What did he remember?

Golden hair…and blue eyes…being held…warm, safe…

"_Marry me!"_

"_You're alive…real…love you…"_

A ring.

_But you lied. You threw that away._

_"Bucky! Bucky, what's wrong?! Are you hurt?! Were you hit?!"_

_"Steve…Steve, I'm…sorry…"_

"Steve?"

"I'm here."

At that, he felt warmth in the place where his hand might have been.

"I'm not letting go."

"Where am I?" he murmured, slowly starting to feel his body again.

"In the med ward onboard the Helicarrier. Clint saved your life."

"My life…?"

_Oh, God._

"_Steve!_" he shouted, his eyes finally flying open. When he attempted to sit up, he was met with some kind of restraint. Looking down, he saw a large, thickly-muscled arm thrown across his chest. Following the arm up to the owner's face, he found Steve glaring down at him rather fiercely.

"_Don't. Move,_" the super soldier ordered harshly.

"Steve…" he whispered. It wasn't often he experienced fear. Bucky Barnes had looked death in the face and laughed…but now, seeing the way Steve was looking at him, he couldn't help but remember that this man could kill enemies with one blow…that his strength was more than human. However, through the anger and the hurt, he could also see that Steve's eyes were wet.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" he asked, his voice quiet, but demanding.

"I…I didn't…know _how._ What was I _supposed_ to say?"

"Couldn't find one spare minute to tell me you were just gonna die and leave me here. Does this mean _anything_ to you?!" he snapped, reaching for Bucky's right hand and seizing the finger where his engagement ring rested.

"Of _course_ it does," he answered without hesitation. "It means _everything_ to me. I just…didn't want to hurt you anymore. I remember…when we were kids…and I knew when you were missing your mom. You'd just get this _look_…and I couldn't _stand_ that look in your eyes…and have it be _me_ who put it there. I _wanted_ to tell you…but I also wanted Stark to figure something out before I had to. I was a damn coward. I know that…and I _know_ I don't deserve to be forgiven for doing this to you, but…Steve…I'm _so_ sorry."

For a long while, Steve didn't say anything. He just sat beside the cot, staring at the ring on Bucky's finger. When he finally did move again, it was to wrap his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"I almost lost this," he whispered against Bucky's slightly clammy skin, his shoulders beginning to shake with barely suppressed sobs. "Three times…_three_ _times_ I've almost lost you to them…to HYDRA. Are they just…trying to punish _me_?"

Bucky stiffened at hearing this, knowing exactly what direction Steve's thoughts were heading in. "Oh, no. There is no way in _Hell_ you're blaming yourself for this," he snarled. "_I_ put myself in this cot. _Me. Nobody else_."

"But you were saddled with this power in the first place because of me…and…back when you first…came back…all the little things you did…every time you used magic to protect me. You might have mentioned I was putting a _bullet_ through your chest every time I asked you to turn the lights off."

"_I_ made those choices, not you."

"But…what's going to happen…if you try to use magic again?"

"I don't know," Bucky answered honestly. "I don't know how long my heart's even going to keep beating."

"Bucky-"

"No, Steve. You wanted to deal with this. Let's deal with it. I'm _still_ going to die. I pushed my body too far. Now it's…just a question of when."

"Buck, there might be something they can do…to keep you alive until they can figure something else out…a surgery…"

"Surgery?" Bucky asked quietly, feeling hope ignite in his heart for what felt like the first time in months. Much as he hated doctors, he would bear whatever had to be done if it meant he could stay alive…stay with Steve…and not have to crush him with his death.

What the two lovers couldn't have known as they discussed the possibility of the surgery, was that the HYDRA agent "on the inside" that Sinthia had feared was already hard at work. While Sinthea and Steve had been interrogating their captive, the agent had stolen the broken section of Bucky's mech arm and delivered it to Dr. Schmidt's lab. That done, the agent was currently working on shutting down several key security feeds. The next task would be to free the captured agent. Then, together, they would perform HYDRA's Final Mandate…and Captain America and the Winter Soldier would bear witness to it.

XxX

(A/N) So, no. I didn't really kill him, but our boys are far from being out of the woods. I suppose I just gave them a bit of a wakeup call.


	6. Something Borrowed

(A/N) As always, praises be to all my lovely readers. Your reviews keep me sane (and yes, that is a good thing; you don't wanna see the alternative). And no worries, Mudkipz. I say it's a good thing to evoke strong reactions with one's writing…and I seem to have succeeded quite thoroughly if recent reactions are anything to judge by.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 6: Something Borrowed_

"The device is called an implantable cardioverter defibrillator, ICD," the surgeon explained to Bucky and Steve, showing them the small device as his two assistants prepped for the surgery. "It will be implanted here," he continued, tapping the left side of Bucky's chest, "then wired through to your heart. It detects when the heartbeat becomes irregular and administers a jolt to get it working properly again. The idea is to prevent future episodes like today's before they happen."

"Will it hurt? When it shocks him, I mean?" Steve asked.

"Well…yes," the surgeon answered honestly. "It's an electric shock. There will, of course, be some pain, but as I understand it, there aren't a lot of options remaining to us at this point."

"It's okay," Bucky reassured them. "I'd have been dead a long time ago if I couldn't handle a little pain. This'll be nothing."

Steve shivered slightly at the casual way Bucky talked about being dead, but he was able to shrug it off.

"The procedure shouldn't take more than an hour, and the medication we've been pumping through your I.V. should be kicking in very soon. In the meantime, Captain Rogers, I _am_ going to have to ask you to wait outside."

"All right. Just…just a minute," he said softly, turning to look down at Bucky. He raised the hand that wasn't attached to the drip and briefly pressed his lips to the knuckles before leaning in very close to whisper in his ear, "Please…just promise me you'll wake up this time."

"I promise," Bucky whispered against his cheek, even though he _knew_ he shouldn't make such a promise. It wasn't a matter of should or should not; it was a matter of _had _to.

"If you don't…I'll just follow you and drag you back myself," he said, laughing to cover up his tears as he leaned over to kiss him. "I love you," he whispered against his lips.

"I love you, too," Bucky returned blearily, the drug in his veins already starting to drag him under. "Gonna be waiting for me, shrimp?"

"Always."

"Captain Rogers."

"I know, I know," he said, brushing the hair from Bucky's eyes as he backed away. No response. He was already under.

_Don't you __**dare**__ die on me,_ Steve thought before turning and heading out.

XxX

While all this had been going on, Clint had been searching for Natasha, who had disappeared after being okayed to leave the med ward. She wasn't in her quarters…not anywhere he looked. He finally stumbled across her sitting on a catwalk in the underbelly of the carrier, her legs dangling over the side. It was the place they'd fought…when Loki had still been in his head.

"It was like I was five all over again," she hissed, not looking at him as he sat down beside her. "And all I wanted to do was curl up at his feet and _cry_."

"But you didn't," Clint said as he rested a hand on her knee, not really needing to ask to know that.

"He…wants the baby," she said, still staring pointedly ahead.

"For his new Red Room," Clint said, his grip on her knee tightening slightly.

"Yes. He seems to think whatever alliance they and HYDRA have is going to produce even stronger agents. Don't know why yet; I couldn't get anything else out of him."

"Well…it's not nothing," the marksman said. "Are you all right? Both of you?"

"I'm not dead," she said, her typical response when she didn't really want to say how she was feeling. "But she…Clint…she _kicked_ today."

When she finally turned to look at him, the smile on his face was unlike anything she'd ever seen before: a look of joy, wonder, and reverence the kind of which her hawk usually left out of his repertoire. When it seemed that the besotted father-to-be was incapable of doing anything but staring at her with that loopy smile on his face, Natasha shook her head, smiling in exasperation as she took his hand in hers. Then she guided it to her stomach, rubbing it gently across the stretched surface.

The movement seemed to wake the little girl, for Natasha soon felt the kicking again, not as insistent as it had been earlier, but still there…and when Clint felt the tiny kicks against his hand, if it was possible, his smile got even bigger.

"My God, she's…she's really in there, isn't she."

"Yeah…that's her," Natasha said, resting her head against Clint's shoulder as he continued to rub her belly. Neither could be certain how long they sat like that before Natasha said, "I guess…she's going to be needing a name, isn't she."

"Yeah," Clint said, treading somewhat cautiously, as this was the first time Natasha had acknowledged their daughter in this way and he didn't want to scare her off by being too eager. "What are you thinkin'?"

"I…want something Russian, I think." She wasn't really sure why. Of the many things she was, sentimental was not one of them, but then again…what was really sentimental about the land where she'd been born?

"Well…I don't know too many of those. You're gonna have to help me with this one." While it was true he didn't know many names, Clint's Russian was certainly passable.

After thinking about it for several minutes, Natasha glanced between Clint's hand and his face and said softly, "Zasha."

"Zasha," Clint repeated a few times, trying it out, and finally deciding he liked it, liked the edge it had to it. "What does it mean?"

"Defender of the people…the opposite of the Red Room…everything I _wasn't_."

"But what you are _now_…and what we're gonna raise her to be. It'll never happen, Nat. Those bastards are _never_ gonna get their hands on Zasha."

"Anything you're particularly fond of for a middle name?" Natasha asked, deftly sidestepping the issue. Clint also thought for several minutes, perfectly aware of the avoidance, but allowing her to have it, just the same.

"I kinda like…Ruslana," he said, the usual twist of wry amusement lighting his eyes once more.

"Like the Lion?" Natasha repeated, feeling a bit of amusement in her own gut. "Where did you hear that one?"

"Don't really remember…but I liked it," he said, brushing his nose gently against hers.

"It isn't a typical Russian name…but I like it, too. Zasha Ruslana Romanova…Lion, defender of the people, a true daughter of S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha said, waxing a bit melodramatic near the end. As the pair had a good chuckle over it, Fury's voice was suddenly in their ears, interrupting.

"Barton? Romanoff? If you copy, you need to get up here. We might have a problem."

XxX

It didn't take long for the hour Steve had been promised to begin to feel like years, and that was saying something for a guy who had slept about seventy of them. It was somewhere in the middle of his vigil that he was interrupted by the arrival of Tony and Bruce.

"So the cat's out of the bag," Tony started, leaning against the wall across from the super soldier.

"When did you guys get here?"

"Just now, actually. Robin hood clued me in to what happened, so I put a little more brainpower into the problem. Might have come up with the solution you need," he said, looking rather pleased with himself.

"What?!" Steve asked, instantly snapping to attention.

"Well, the trouble before was that I didn't know exactly how this was going to go down. Couldn't tell if it was going to be blood poisoning or organ failure or what. There's a million different ways for the human body to die."

"Yeah," Steve said, already more angered than usual by Tony's levity.

"When Hawk Boy told me what happened, I finally had the missing pieces. If this thing manifests as heart failure, it just means that using magic has run his body down and that he needs an alternate source of power to keep it going."

"Stark," Steve growled, moving across the corridor and seizing his friend's collar, shoving him harshly against the wall. "What's the solution?"

Tony just grinned, completely unfazed by the captain's anger. Bringing an arm around, he tapped the center of his chest. "What you need, Cap, is another arc reactor."

"And that…that would work?" Steve asked, still not letting go of Tony.

"The design would have to be altered slightly, of course. My chest piece powers an electromagnet that keeps shrapnel out of my heart. What Barnes needs is something to power his heart directly."

"You didn't come here to tell me that, did you?" Steve asked, finally releasing the billionaire. "When you could be back at the tower working on it right now."

"Course not. I came to see Captain Hammer."

"Thor's coming? Why?"

"Aside from his bi-weekly visit to his prego girlfriend? This reactor is gonna need to be powered by Tesseract energy, since that's what Loki used to give your boy toy his powers in the first place. Since the Tesseract can't leave Asgard, I'm gonna need their permission to work with it again. Thor's bringing one of their "sorcerers" for me to talk to."

"Thank God," Steve breathed, moving away from Tony and half collapsing back against the other side of the corridor.

"No need for the formalities. Tony'll do just fine," the genius said.

Steve wasn't even annoyed this time around. In fact, he might have almost agreed with him. There was really a way to save Bucky's life…a real solution, not just a "for now" or an "unless". Bucky was going to be all right. He would live.

_I'm sure I'll regret this someday, but…thank God for Tony Stark._

XxX

After all the insanity with the HYDRA agent, Sinthea had slowly made her way back to her lab. She being the driven, slightly mad scientist that she was, her first thought was not about seeing to her injury. She went right back to what she'd been working on before Steve had shown up, not even remembering that her hand was still bleeding until she reached to pull one of the containers to her and felt a sting in her palm.

With that sharp reminder, the doctor went to retrieve some bandages and antiseptic. Once she'd cleaned the bite, she started to wrap her hand, but that was when she was interrupted.

"Please don't," the HYDRA agent said as he stepped into the lab, a gun in hand. "We still need that."

Recognizing the voice before she'd even looked up, Sinthea quickly drew her own weapon. All S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel were required to attain at least a low-level proficiency with firearms and Sinthea, considering her area of expertise, possessed more than that level of proficiency.

"How did you get out?"

"Heheh, it was nothing less than _destiny_ that brought me here, my Lady. I have been _chosen_ to perform this task tonight."

"Bullshit. Destiny didn't get you out of that cell."

"Why are you aiming that gun at me? We both know you won't shoot me, so why are you still pretending otherwise?"

"Well, you're not aiming at me, so I figure I've got a pretty good chance of getting off a shot before you come any closer."

The agent shook his head. "It's just wrong…for me to point my weapon at you. It's unforgivable."

"So…if you're not even going to try to threaten me…what are you doing here?"

"We come to perform the Final Mandate. That's precisely why you won't shoot me…because you must satisfy your need to _know_. Don't you want to? Understand the purpose of the slime? The reason behind the reaction with the Soldier's prosthetic? Don't you want to understand what HYDRA really is? We can tell you if you let us."

"You keep saying we. What we?"

"How do you think I got out of the cell, Dr. Schmidt?"

At that moment, Sinthea felt the muzzle of a gun pressing against her temple.

"Drop the gun, Doctor," a feminine voice she didn't recognize said softly in her ear.

"I thought it was wrong to point weapons at me," she retorted as she slowly set the gun down.

"It _is_," the voice at her ear explained, "but Alrik and I are not the same. He is Skull's Own…and I am one who can do what needs to be done, regardless of consequences."

"Lovely."

"Alrik, hurry and gather the Ark and the Key. We won't have a lot of time before Fury figures it out and Barnes will be waking up any minute. We need to get to medical before they come after us."

"Of course," the agent, apparently called Alrik said, immediately sheathing his weapon and going to retrieve the broken piece of metal and the container that held the reactive slime, sealing the container tightly before picking it up.

"Prepare yourself, Doctor," her captor said as she began to push her out of the lab, Alrik close behind. "You are soon to witness the Second Coming."

XxX

Bucky was already starting to come around by the time Steve was allowed back into the ward.

"Hey, there, punk," Bucky called sleepily as Steve came to his side.

"How're you feeling?"

"Like you oughta be in bed next to me, buck ass naked," he answered, grinning up at him. "Feelin' kinda hung over if I'm honest."

"Well, the amount of sedative they had to give you in order to keep you under could have killed a bull elephant. You shouldn't be feeling it too much longer," he said, pulling up a chair to sit beside him.

"So…it worked?" Bucky asked, his eyes already starting to clear.

Steve smiled, gently tapping the bandage on his chest. "Uh-huh, the ICD's right in there. So think twice before you try to leave me again."

Bucky chuckled, grabbing at Steve's hand and holding it against his chest. "The reeper'll have to drag me kicking and screaming."

"No doubt," Steve said, leaning over to kiss him, and when they separated for air, he kept his forehead pressed against Bucky's, hardly able to contain his happiness. "But he won't have to do that now."

Bucky pulled back from Steve slightly, looking up at him with confusion in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Tony thinks he's found a solution. He's going to make you your own arc reactor."

"And…that'd do it? That'd save me? Really?" he asked. He'd barely dodged a bullet this time. Something like this was more than he'd dared to hope for at this point.

"He says it should. He just needs to get the damn thing built. You're gonna be all right, Bucky. Everything's gonna be okay now."

However, as the universe is so fond of doing, it proved the captain wrong within only a few moments of speaking the words.

"Oh, my. Are we interrupting?" a familiar voice asked as the door to the ward slid open. Steve's gaze darted to the entrance to see the HYDRA agent entering. A woman with black hair and S.H.I.E.L.D. gear was right next to him, her hand wrapped tightly around Dr. Sinthea Schmidt's arm and her gun trained at her head. Instantly, Steve was crouching protectively over Bucky. He didn't really need to ask how the man had escaped. The woman in the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform pretty much said it all.

"What do you want?"

"To spread the good news, Captain. To tell the world of the Gospel of HYDRA."

"Well, this one's definitely off his nut," Bucky muttered so that only Steve could hear.

"Tonight we will carry out HYDRA's Final Mandate…and Johann Schmidt will be reborn into this world."

"And I'll go to _Hell_ before I let you do that," Steve growled, standing up a little straighter, but still in a position to protect Bucky.

"I think not, Captain Rogers. Would you rather have Gudrun here kill Dr. Schmidt? Because that is what will happen if either of you move from that spot," he explained as the woman called Gudrun shoved Sinthea onto her knees in the middle of the ward, still aiming her gun at her.

"Don't listen to him, Captain Rogers. They won't shoot me. Take them out."

"_Won't_ I shoot you, Doctor?" Gudrun snarled, shoving her all the way to the floor and jamming her gun into her back. "I'd _prefer_ not to, but if you leave me no other choice, then…well…" she finished with a shrug, her expression shifting into something self-satisfied.

"Even if you don't care about the doctor, you certainly care about James Barnes. Do you want to risk him trying to use magic again so soon after what happened in Richmond?" the man asked, his threat implicit. Steve didn't exactly back down, just returned to his previous crouching position.

"Good boy. You don't know what this is, do you?" he asked, holding up the container of slime. Rather than waiting for them to answer in the negative, he set the container down in front of Sinthea and unsealed it, continuing on. "It's a very fascinating piece of alien biotech. Depending on what it's catalyzed with, it has many different applications. It can serve as a healing agent, a weapon, or in some cases…it can be used to preserve a living consciousness after death."

"Oh, God," Bucky whispered in horror, the pieces starting to come together in his head.

"Yes…you remember, don't you, Sergeant Barnes? You touched his mind that day. While the metal in your arm is the catalyst that makes the transfer work, you are not a compatible host. Lady Sinthea, on the other hand…"

"Alrik, stop showing off!" Gudrun snapped. "We have what we need and all the conditions of the Mandate are met. We have to carry it out now before the cavalry shows up."

"Yes, yes, absolutely, you're right," Alrik said, smiling in a sort of unhinged way as he held up the piece of broken prosthetic for them to see.

"Where did you get that?' Steve asked.

"It was all part of the plan…for the arm to be broken…and for the others to die in battle so that I could come here and do what needed to be done," Alrik explained…right before he dropped the piece of metal into the slime.

As had happened before, the reaction was instant. The slime began to glow red and to bubble, nearly overflowing the container. The same half-hiss half shriek sound filled the air. Then Alrik knelt beside Sinthea and seized her still-bleeding hand in his.

"What…what are you _doing?_" Sinthea cried out, though she'd already guessed judging from the language Alrik had used. "_Stop this!_"

As Sinthea struggled, Steve started to move again. He couldn't let this happen; he just _couldn't!_ But even as he moved, Alrik's gun hand was still aiming a weapon at Bucky, so he stopped. Sinthea didn't stop, though, she kept fighting, kept trying to prevent Alrik from shoving her hand in the roiling container.

"Do you _want_ me to kill you?" Gudrun asked, pressing the gun to her temple once more.

"I would _rather_ die than be a part of this!" she shouted defiantly.

"What about _him_, then?" the HYDRA agent asked, changing direction so that she, too, was aiming at Bucky. "You're one of them. You don't want his blood on your hands, do you?"

For a moment, Sinthea looked torn…then her struggling ceased and Alrik kissed her hand before gently slipping it into the container.

The red light emanating from the slime instantly increased in magnitude, bathing the ward in a horrifying red glow. The bubbling stopped and the stuff almost seemed to solidify around Sinthea's hand…then she began to scream.

Alrik and Gudrun both backed away from her. She yanked her hand free of the container and crumpled to the floor, rolling around and clutching her head as if in a fit.

"AAGHH! No! No! No! _God, no!_ Don't do this to me!" she shrieked.

"Sinthea!" Steve shouted, wanting to help somehow, but not daring to move from Bucky's side.

"I'm me! I'm me! I'm not you! You're _dead!_ _Get out of my head!_"

After what felt like hours of listening to the horrific screaming, Sinthea finally curled into a ball and lay still. The red light from the container dissipated, almost seeming to soak into the doctor's hair as it changed from a brunette color to a blood red color.

"Sinthea?" Steve called out.

The first sign of life the doctor showed was a slight tremble all throughout her body. The trembling soon resolved itself into bouts of laughter, gleeful, maniacal, utterly _insane_ laughter. Then, when she finally loosened up and rolled onto her back, Steve recognized the face that laughed hysterically up at the ceiling. Perhaps it had proper skin now, and the features of the stolen face were feminine, but he still knew the ugly, mocking rictus of a smile, knew the half mad blue eyes. Then those eyes turned to look at him, brightening in recognition.

"Hallo…Captain America," she said. The voice was still hers, but she spoke with the same accent he used to.

"Schmidt."

XxX


	7. For As Long

(A/N) Thanks to all you lovely people out there who patron my lil fic. I am eternally grateful.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 7: For As Long…_

"It's been a long time, hasn't it," Steve's old enemy said, slowly rolling to all fours and moving to crouch on his/her knees.

"If I _never_ saw your face again, it'd be too soon," Steve growled.

"How rude, Captain…and after I traversed galaxies just to see you again. Though, if it makes you feel any better, I suppose it isn't technically my face."

"No, of course not. You don't _have_ a proper face."

Briefly, Sinthea's features tightened in anger, but it was quickly shaken off. When Schmidt tried to stand, though, he/she stumbled, not quite able to manage it. Alrik quickly rushed to his master's side.

"Not too quickly, Sir. You've only just got control of the vessel's mind. The body will come later."

"Of course. I am forgetting myself. I have not my old strength. Though…she is not all weak, this grandchild of mine. Alrik!" he/she snapped, stretching out his/her arms for assistance. Alrik immediately knelt beside his master and lifted him/her into his arms.

"What do you _want_, Schmidt?" Steve asked as Alrik carried the still-weak maniac over to him.

"Oh, I was rather thinking we could just pick up where we left off. Me about to seize rightful control of this world and you futilely trying to stop me."

"Last time I checked, it wasn't futile. Besides, just what were you planning to do from the heart of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s powerbase? You're completely surrounded here and the only place you and your friends are going is right back in jail."

"Quite the contrary. In fact, my way out should be arriving in a few short minutes."

"Do you honestly-"

Before Steve could finish, the entrance to the med ward was suddenly demolished, and the _thing_ that had done it soon resolved from the smoke and debris as the Hulk, roaring in rage. He was followed soon after by Iron Man, Thor, Hawkeye, and several other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, including Maria Hill, Sharon Carter, and Darcy Lewis.

"What's that you were saying, Numb Skull?" Tony asked. Schmidt just threw back his/her head and laughed.

"Really? All of you? The Avengers? What will you do, oh noble warriors? Kill the woman? She is still inside here with me. Will you destroy an innocent life just to get to me?"

"We don't know that," Tony argued. "For all we know, her consciousness was destroyed when you moved in there. In which case, it's nothing but a body to us."

"She is still alive. Believe me; I can hear her _screaming_ right now," he/she said, glancing very specifically at Steve. "However, just as I cannot prove her life to you, you cannot prove her death, either. So there is always the chance you will kill her if you attack me."

The Hulk let out another enraged roar, looking like he just might try to push his luck on that one, but Schmidt eyed him without any kind of fear.

"You are still the weak scientist wrapped in that false shroud of strength. You _know_ Sinthea Schmidt. Will you kill your friend, Dr. Banner?"

The Hulk continued to growl, but Schmidt's words had still reached something inside of him and he backed down, glaring and snarling in frustration.

"Johann Schmidt? What is it that you want?" Maria was the one to finally ask.

"To be allowed to leave here with the hostages of my choosing."

"And what do you think you have to bargain with for such a deal?"

"The doctor's life. I know your Director Fury does not want to see her killed."

"You won't kill her. She's your vessel now," Sharon pointed out.

"As usual, Agent Carter is wrong. Sinthea is not the only compatible host there is. While I would hate to destroy the knowledge contained within her, I will do so that I might leave here. After all, even if her body dies, her memories all belong to me now. I could easily destroy her and move on to the next host."

Maria's head tilted slightly to the side, as if listening for something distant, before finally asking, "Who are you asking us for?"

"Let us not pretend I am asking. I will receive them…whether certain parties agree or not. I will have Agent Natasha Romanoff and Sergeant James Barnes."

The reactions from Steve and Clint were instant and violently negative.

"Over my dead body!" Steve snarled, wrapping his arms around Bucky.

"Go to Hell, you bastard!" Clint shouted, his arrow aimed right between Schmidt's eyes.

"Avengers…all agents…are ordered to stand down," Fury's voice suddenly came over the PA system, sounding both angry and torn. "Let the intruders go free with their hostages."

"_What?!_" Clint shouted.

"_No!_" Steve's voice joined his, his gaze darting overhead in anger and betrayal. "No fucking way!"

Chaos ensued. The agents were mostly standing down, but the Avengers were ready to take up the fight should Steve and Clint lead the charge…and in the middle of all the chaos, Schmidt began to laugh hysterically yet again.

"Isn't this fun? Even in your time of need, the masters you serve will not interfere, not one little word to save you. Because even here, surrounded by Earth's Mightiest, I possess the one thing S.H.I.E.L.D. will not relinquish."

"Steve…" Bucky said quietly. "You have to let me go."

"No," Steve murmured in shock, clutching a little tighter. "No. No way!"

"We can't let him kill her," he whispered to his lover. "And if we're gonna take him out for good, we need someone on the inside."

_And…if I'm right about who the other compatible host is…I just won't let that happen._

"I can't lose you again," Steve hissed in his ear. "_I can't._ I can't handle that."

"It's gonna be all right, Steve," Bucky soothed him, gently pressing his lips to the corner of his mouth. "I promise. He's not gonna kill me…not right away…not unless you're there to see it…and I'll stay alive 'til you find me…'til we're together again."

Releasing Bucky from his arms was like prying them off. As the two of them stood from the hospital bed, Steve saw Sinthea moving toward them, having gained enough strength to move freely.

"Why?" he asked, turning to glare at his old enemy.

"Because I will have you _suffer_…long before you die, Steve Rogers…because you do it so _well_, suffering."

"I _will_ kill you this time, Skull," Steve swore as Bucky went to stand beside him/her. "I'm not gonna leave it up to chance this time. I'm going to choke the life out of you myself."

"Of course, of course," Schmidt said indulgently, "but in the meantime…Agent Romanoff! I know you're out there. Why don't you come join us?"

For a moment, Clint looked confused, but then he heard movement from the half-destroyed corridor and Natasha appeared among the group.

"Nat, what are you doing here? You were supposed to stay on the bridge."

Natasha chuckled, almost bitterly. "Couldn't miss this."

Before Clint could protest any further, a dart suddenly struck Natasha in the neck. She barely had the chance to pull Gudrun's projectile from her skin before she was slumping over sideways.

"_Nat!_" Clint shouted, catching her as she went down. She was already unconscious. "What the Hell was _that_ for?!" he demanded of their enemies.

"The Winter Soldier comes willingly because he understands why he must. The Black Widow might have been a problem, pregnant or not," Schmidt explained. "Now, James, if you would be so kind…"

Sighing heavily, Bucky went to Clint and held out his arms.

"I won't let anything happen to them," he promised. "I'll _die_ first."

For a moment, Clint looked ready to fight, but then he really looked into Bucky's eyes and seemed to realize how hopelessly outgunned they were. Schmidt had beaten them to the punch, so they had to take the loss. As he passed Natasha to Bucky, he gently kissed her lips, then her stomach.

"I'm comin' for you…both of you. I promise."

Carrying Natasha, Bucky went to stand with Schmidt and the HYDRA agents once more.

"Excellent. I believe a little transportation spell is in order, James, if you wouldn't mind. We need to get to a quinjet."

It took Bucky and Steve a moment to realize what he/she was asking, but when they did…

"No! You can't!" Steve cried out. "It might kill him!"

"Steve, calm down," Bucky placated him, though his own expression looked nervous. "That's what this little device is supposed to be for. Now I guess we find out if it works."

With that, the other three gathered around Bucky, each placing a hand on him. Then he took a deep breath and easily bent space around him, removing all five of them from the med ward.

The moment the five of them reappeared in the quinjet, Bucky received a jolt from the ICD, which sent him to his knees, gasping in pain, though he still somehow managed to keep a hold of Natasha's limp body.

"You were right, James. I will not kill you," Schmidt's voice sounded in his ear as the two agents prepped the jet for a quick takeoff. "Not unless our captain is there to witness your death. In the meantime, though, you will suffer well in his name…and turn the suffering back upon him."

"Just go to Hell," Bucky hissed at him/her, shuddering in both pain and anguish as unconsciousness claimed him.

"Would that I could, Sergeant Barnes," Schmidt said to the unconscious man, "but it seems to have spat me back out."

XxX

The sound of Steve's fist connecting with Fury's face wasn't met with any particular form of protest. Only Maria moved forward to help the downed director.

"How could you just give them up like that?!" Steve demanded, his voice the howl of a wounded animal.

"Didn't have any kind of choice in the matter," Fury said, not begrudging the captain the blow in the slightest.

"Didn't…have…" Steve choked out, his face growing even more red with rage. He advanced on the director like he meant to do some real damage, at which point, Maria actually drew her gun on him.

"You wanna shoot me? _Shoot me!_" Steve challenged, flinging his arms wide and leaving himself completely open.

"Stand down, Agent Hill," Fury ordered, looking Steve in the eye as he struggled up from where he lay on the bridge floor. "If the captain really wanted to hit me, I'd be dead now."

"Nick, what did you do?" Clint asked, joining in Steve's anger. "Why did you do this?"

"Because Dr. Sinthea Schmidt can't die now. She's too important…especially now the enemy knows what she knows."

"And what does she know?" Steve asked, still looking like he might murder Fury, but holding at bay for the moment.

"Perhaps we ought to move this conversation to a less public area," Fury suggested, his good eye already swelling as he led the group of seething Avengers off the bridge and into a conference room.

"Well?" Steve continued once they were all inside.

"Dr. Schmidt…knows Erskine's original formula," Fury said quietly.

Briefly, Steve's eyes widened. "You…you mean…"

"The super soldier serum…Project Rebirth…Sinthea figured out the secret. Erskine left behind imperfect copies of his formula, most of which were left in the care of his adopted daughter, Brynnhilde, when SSR scientists had no luck duplicating it…but Sinthea put the pieces together when no one else could. She developed a working serum."

"How do you _know_ it works? Who'd you test it on?" Tony asked.

Fury looked around the group for several minutes before answering, "Phil Coulson."

Another several moments of silence followed before Maria broke it asking, "And it didn't-"

"Coulson was stabbed through the heart," Steve interrupted before she could finish. "There's only so much an accelerated healing factor can do with a fatal wound like that…especially if the medics didn't get to him fast enough."

"Their experiment was performed that day…without my knowledge…but it did work. I thought I'd managed to keep this information hidden from the council, but the only way I can think of for Schmidt to have found out about it would be to get the information from Dreykoff. And now _they_ have it, and we _don't_. Even if somebody does do something stupid and kill her, we'll _still_ be without it, and they'll have it so long as Schmidt survives, 'cuz he's got her memories now."

"That's their plan," Clint said slowly. "That's how they're going to power the Red Room's next generation."

"What? Use the serum on _children?_" Steve asked, thoroughly horrified.

"The Red Room tends to play that sort of game, Cap. HYDRA could probably find all manner of unseemly use for it, too."

"And you just let Schmidt walk out of here with the key to all that?" Banner asked incredulously.

"Please, tell me what you all would have done," Fury invited. "The _only_ options he was leaving us were to either kill her or let them off the carrier. Besides, we're not totally helpless. HYDRA's not the only group with a man on the inside."

"You've got a mole?" Clint asked.

"Yes, an agent who's been deep undercover for nearly two years now. It wasn't until recently he was able to get into 2R's inner circle. He should be able to give us a report on Barnes and Romanoff before too long."

"2R?" the archer continued to press.

"It appears to be the Red Room's new name. They decided to be not so on the nose about their title after you and Romanoff went to town."

"How many are there right now?" Clint asked.

"The most recent report stated they just brought in a ninth child, and if we're understanding Dreykoff's intentions correctly…Zasha's meant to be the tenth."

"Zasha?" Thor broke in on everyone else's behalf.

"Our daughter," Clint said softly. "We…we just named her…Zasha. The Red Room…only ever trains ten people at a time," he tried to explain to the others, trying very hard to keep his thoughts off the fact that it might now be his own child he was talking about. "Mostly they try to take children…because children are so much easier to train…to indoctrinate. Natasha went into the Red Room when she was five. They remake them into perfect spies and assassins."

"That's _sick_," Steve hissed. To do such things to a _child_…but then, on a slightly practical (if not insane) note, he found himself wondering what HYDRA could want with such a slow training process. It had been his experience that they were more interested in army and weapons' development.

_What are you planning, Skull?_

It was in that moment that something else occurred to the super soldier. If this Red Room employed torture and coercion…then…

"Clint?" Steve interrupted whatever he'd been saying. "Do you know if they've ever tried to…indoctrinate grown men?"

"I'm not sure. Nat would know better."

"Do you think…maybe there's a chance…whatever they end up doing…could end up reactivating Bucky's Winter Soldier programming?"

Clint's eyes widened briefly as he looked at Steve. If that theory was correct…then would it really be all that difficult to reactivate Natasha's old conditioning? Rather than admit he had no idea, he announced boldly, "It doesn't matter, because we're going to get them back."

"One more question, though," Tony said, raising a hand. "There's one thing in all this I really don't get. The…eh…possessed Dr. Schmidt. Should we be referring to her as she…or he? It's been driving me crazy."

XxX

The first thing Bucky became aware of upon regaining consciousness was the unpleasant sting of antiseptic in his nose. Taking stock of himself, he found he was lying on his side on a not very comfortable surface, probably a cot. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Natasha lying in a cot on the opposite side of the room. She'd been stripped of her own clothing and was instead dressed in a pair of black pants and a black bra, leaving her growing stomach exposed.

As he sat up and looked around, he found that the place they were being held in seemed to be little more than a concrete box with a small hole in one corner that was probably meant to serve as their toilet. Otherwise, their cell had no furnishings. The only other feature was the very heavy-looking door that led in and out.

"Any idea where we are?" Natasha's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts. Glancing back at her, he found that in the few minutes he'd been looking away, she'd come to and was sitting up on her cot, eyes alert.

"No. I wasn't conscious when they brought us in. Schmidt had me transport the group to a quinjet and I…got a bit of a shock for my trouble."

"Well, at least you're still breathing, and your surgery scar looks like it's just about healed," she said.

Glancing down, Bucky realized for the first time that he had no shirt. The only clothing that had been left to him was a pair of pants. His bandages had been removed and the "scar" on his chest was already little more than a faint pink line.

"Any idea why they might have put us in a cell together?" he asked, standing up and starting to move around, working the stiffness from his limbs.

"I couldn't guess," she said, joining him in appraising the situation as she absently rubbed her belly. "So why didn't you fight?"

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, not looking at her.

"You _know_ what I mean, Barnes. You could have fought back there. You weren't still weak from the surgery. I know neither of you boys has any love for Dr. Schmidt. It wasn't because of her…not really. So why?"

"Why didn't you?" he fired back.

"You know I can't…because of her…because of Zasha. One wrong twist and I could kill her…just like that…and there would never be another chance," she answered succinctly. "What are you going to dodge my question with now?"

"What…what Schmidt said…about there being another compatible host…"

"I heard."

"Well…that first day with the slime, I…I touched his mind…without really understanding what was happening. I knew it was _him_, though…and when Steve came to me, it…it was like Schmidt was reaching _through_ me…trying to get to Steve. I don't know _how_…but I'm pretty sure Steve's the other compatible host he was talking about. I wasn't even going to _toy_ with the chance of something like _that_ happening…so I didn't fight. I will _always_ protect him," he said, finally looking her in the eye.

"No matter what the cost might be," she finished for him, understanding the sentiment perfectly.

"Besides…what cost is there, really?" Bucky asked, trying to make a little light of the situation. "What more can Schmidt and Dreykoff do to me that Loki hasn't already done?" he asked, gesturing to his body.

"They can still kill you," Natasha reminded him, her gaze hard. "I know you don't think they will unless Rogers is there to watch, but we still don't know the limits of that device in your chest. We don't know how much stress it can take before it can't help you anymore. It could happen completely by accident. What happens then?"

Bucky sighed, staring at the floor for a long while before answering, "I don't know."

"Don't underestimate them, Barnes. The Red Room is the monster parents hide their children from. They'll figure out exactly how to break you and then do it."

Bucky shook his head. "I've already _been_ broken…I was broken _years_ before Loki even got to me. Do you really think they can do it again?"

"I do. Maybe not in any way you can imagine right now…but Dreykoff's…creative," she said, barely suppressing a shudder.

"I promised Barton I'd keep the two of you safe. I guess you'll just have to do the same for Steve…keep me sane until they get here."

"Sane?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not _safe?_"

Bucky chuckled bitterly at this. "Trust me, Natasha, sane's enough. Anything else plays second fiddle."

XxX


	8. With This Ring

(A/N) Sorry for the delay this week. I just discovered Capkink…eheh eheh eheh.

Mudkipz: The X2 thing? Yeah, that was definitely in my head at the time. As for the other thing, well…I have a Steve of my own, but it's definitely nice to be appreciated, so…not so creepy as all that. : )

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 8: With This Ring_

"So where'd they take 'em?" Fury asked, the secure line he was working through generating only audio and not video.

"They were brought to the main compound outside Berlin. Boss…is what I'm hearing true? Did Schmidt really take Sinthea?"

"Afraid so. You're going to have to avoid letting Schmidt get a good look at your face. Whether she means to or not, she'll recognize you and give the game away."

"Understood."

"So what do our old friends have planned for them?"

"Well, we've known 2R was going to come after Natasha. The thing that bothers me, though, is they've been talking about her pregnancy like it was expected, and I don't see how that can be."

"That is a somewhat…disturbing concept," Fury said slowly. "What about Agent Barnes?"

"So far, I've only got wind of 2R's plans. My current position doesn't merit contact with HYDRA. 2R's wanting to use him to help train the current generation. The impression I'm getting is they're hoping their regimen might reactivate Loki's reprogramming. The Winter Soldier is, after all, a very valuable asset to whoever can hold him."

"And Schmidt? No word on what _his_ plans are?"

"I haven't heard, but he'll _definitely_ be plotting something. He's got Captain America's fiancée at his mercy. No way the Red Skull passes up a chance like this. He'll use Bucky to get to Steve."

"Well, I don't think _any_ of us doubted that for a second. Has there been any word on serum production yet?"

"Schmidt's working on the first dosage right now. They're saying he's going to use himself as the first test subject."

"That's him all over. Gonna be interesting to see what the results are…with both of 'em in her head like this."

"Also, Boss, you might wanna tell Barton and Rogers to lay low for a bit."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I think Dreykoff's planning to turn the council on them."

"And how's he gonna do that?"

"I don't know. Probably frame 'em for something ridiculous. At this point, we may as well be living under martial law for all the good due process is gonna do us."

"Anything more to report?"

"Nothing now. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Good," Fury said just as a new message came through on one of the screens.

"Incoming call? It's probably them. I'll report back in when I know more," the agent said before the line cut off.

"Director Fury," the American councilman started the moment Fury activated the communiqué, "we need to speak with you about the Schmidt incident."

"Yes?"

"Certainly, their conduct does not reflect on your actions. You made the only decision you could, given the circumstances," the British councilwoman said. "But why weren't your Avengers able to prevent the transfer in the first place? I'm told Captain Rogers actually witnessed the event."

"Their hands were sort of tied," Fury explained wryly. "The others arrived too late and Captain Rogers' partner was recovering from surgery at the time."

"The super soldier serum is too valuable, Director. Someone must be held accountable for its loss," Dreykoff said. "We request that you bring Captain Rogers and Agent Barton in for questioning."

"Why just the two of them?"

"Because the other Avengers are free lance or foreign national. Only the two of them are actually in the employ of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Well, unfortunately, that just isn't going to be possible. You see, Agent Barton and Captain Rogers have dropped off the grid," Fury lied.

"You mean to say they have gone rogue?" the Asian councilman asked.

"Not as such. We've simply lost contact with them and it seems they're refusing to speak with us…which I absolutely do not blame them for, considering what's happened. I imagine we'll hear from them again once they've rescued their partners."

"And do you truly believe they can _manage_ such a feat?" Dreykoff asked, a clear challenge. "Two men alone?"

"Yes, they _are_ two men alone," Fury started, speaking directly to the Russian now. "But what some people might be forgetting is that they're two men fighting for the people they _love_. I wouldn't match anyone on the damn _planet_ against those two right now."

"We will see," Dreykoff said quietly. Fury could practically _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

"Either way, Director, should they contact you, you _will_ bring them in for questioning. They _will_ be held responsible for the loss of the formula," the American said with a sense of finality before all four screens went dark.

XxX

"Okay, let me see if I've got this right, Merlin. The only reason you and Cyclops are hesitant about letting me work with the Tesseract again…is because you've all got a grudge against Loki?" Tony asked the Asgardian who was standing in the middle of the lab. The ancient Asgardian was clothed in blue and silver robes and it was sometimes difficult to tell where the robe ended and his long hair began. His only other distinguishing feature was a set of bloody bandages wrapped around his throat. He was Mimir Bolthornson, Odin's uncle and his wisest sorcerer and seer.

"No, Anthony Howardson, I fear you do _not_ have it right," the old seer said, his voice a harsh whisper. "The…devices you created before…are not constantly connected to the Tesseract. They only draw power for the brief moments they are active. This…power source you propose to create…it would be connected permanently to the Tesseract, active at all times. The first question would be if this man could withstand that power."

"He could," Steve insisted, eyeing the sorcerer who held Bucky's life in his hands suspiciously from where he leaned against the far wall. "He's the best man I know."

Mimir sighed heavily. "Yes, Steven Josephson, I realize your feelings for this man, but they are no proof of his ability to withstand a direct connection to the Tesseract."

"Hey, this guy's had _Loki_ in his head. If he can deal with _that_ and still come back from it, I'm pretty sure there isn't anything you ladies can dish out that he can't handle," Tony protested. It was probably the closest he could come to giving a compliment, and the brief smile Steve gave him let him know he appreciated it.

"Maybe so, but can you guarantee that Loki would not find some way of _using_ that connection to his advantage?"

"What does that mean?" Bruce asked, anxiously circling the area where Tony and Mimir were facing off.

"Your friend and Loki…they are bound together. Perhaps his spirit proved stronger than Loki's influence, but because of the way Loki touched his soul with his power, they are bound…and can never be truly unbound. They will always be connected to each other…each always touching the other's future. The question is would the Jotunn child be able to reach through him to touch the Tesseract's power?"

"Have care how you speak of my brother, Uncle," Thor growled, glaring at the old sorcerer. He and Jane were sitting on a bench not far from where Steve was leaning. Jane placed a hand on his shoulder in order to calm him, her other hand hovering protectively over the swell of her eight months pregnant stomach.

"Is it any insult to say that a Jotunn is a Jotunn, Nephew? I _warned_ your father not to take him in. The one time he did not heed my council…and of course we now _see_ what has come of that."

Thor leapt to his feet at this, causing the entire lab to rumble slightly with the force of his anger.

"Okay, now we're airing the royal family's dirty laundry. Any other time, I'd get some popcorn, but right now, I'm not all that interested. So if you guys could just lay down the hammers and staffs, that'd be good. Then we can argue like a bunch of _normal_ super-powered people," Tony said. "Cuz all I'm really seeing here is you people not wanting this to get back to him."

"The true issue is…are you all _willing_ to risk this man's life in this way?" Mimir asked, looking around at everyone in the room. "Because you must understand that if Loki ever attempts such a bid for power…we will be forced to sever the link."

The risk was implicit. If it proved necessary at any point in the future…the Asgardians might pull the plug on the arc reactor…on Bucky's heart.

"Well…we're kind of low on options at this point," Clint, who had been quiet up to this point, said, although no one really needed to hear the obvious.

"I'm the only kin he's got…the only kin he's _ever_ had, actually," Steve said quietly. "So I guess that makes this my decision…and I say we're gonna try it. So long as there's a chance, I'll risk anything. We're gonna build this thing, and I want it ready to go the _moment_ I get Bucky back here."

"What did you say your friend's name was?" Mimir asked, eyeing Steve oddly for several moments.

"Bucky."

"James," the seer corrected somehow. "James…James…curious…" he trailed off, staring past Steve at something no one else could really see.

"What's curious?"

"There _is_ no name," he said slowly, still not quite looking at Steve. "How could a man hide his title in such…_despair?_"

"What the Hell's _that_ supposed to mean? Of _course_ he has a name!" Steve protested vehemently.

"It isn't…quite what you're thinking," Mimir started in again, struggling to bring his focus back to the person he was actually talking to. Before Steve could say more, though, Fury and Maria burst into the lab.

"Rogers, Barton, you both need to clear out of here right now," Fury announced without any kind of preamble.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Dreykoff?" Clint asked, though he could at least say he'd been expecting this.

"Right. He's turned the council against the two of you. I had to tell them you'd dropped off the grid to keep 'em off the scent, but you've gotta get clear before they figure it out. Take a quinjet, get as far as you can, then ditch it."

"But…what about Bucky?" Steve asked urgently.

"We'll keep in touch with whatever we find, but for now, if you want to be able to look for him, you need to stay free, and keep one step ahead of these guys."

"Come on, Cap," Clint said, standing and moving toward the door. "We've probably got a better chance of digging up something in the field than if we dick around this joint all night."

"I'll go with you," Bruce suddenly announced, moving to stand beside Steve.

"This is going to be rough, Dr. Banner," Maria reminded him, to which he actually laughed.

"Well, excuse me, Agent Hill. Maybe I'm not a trained agent or a soldier, but if there's one thing I _do_ know how to do, it's be a fugitive."

"You'd better get going right this second, then…all three of you," Fury said firmly.

"Jane, can you get in touch with Betty for me? Tell her I-"

"I will. Don't worry, Bruce," she said, nodding.

"Tony?" Steve queried, glancing at his friend one last time before joining the other two. Tony nodded.

"It'll be ready, Miss America. You just get yourself gone."

"Run," Fury's order echoed after them, even all the way to the quinjet, it felt like. "Run for your _lives_."

XxX

Back when Johann Schmidt had first become the creature known as the Red Skull, when he'd first become a god among men…if someone had told him back then he would end up trapped in another's body, a woman's, no less, and madly scrambling for the power that should have rightfully been his…frankly, he would have shot that someone on the spot for spouting lunacy. However, such thoughts begin to lose their potency after decades of being trapped in a void. After living through such an experience, one tends to do what one must.

_So how did you survive being ripped into atoms?_ The voice of his granddaughter came to him through his thoughts. The woman's screaming and struggling had ceased and she had, if not accepted the situation, was at least making the best of it.

"I didn't," he answered aloud, as there was no one else in the lab to question why he was speaking to himself. "At least, my physical body did not. My living mind, however, was preserved by a being who felt a need for a pet…Thanos. The fact that even _that_ much of my self survived being pulled through the Tesseract gateway intrigued him, so I was kept alive…imprisoned in a void with only darkness and silence for companions, for years…so many years. Then, when his Asgardian pet failed to gain him the Tesseract, he sent me…to see if I might do better for him."

_You __**do**__ know the Tesseract's not here anymore, yeah?_

"I'm aware. It is not the Tesseract I was sent for. There are others working toward that goal. My task is to punish humanity for its resistance."

_And you mean to do that with the serum, do you?_

"Just so, granddaughter. An army failed before, so now we will try a more stealthy approach," he explained as he worked.

_Don't call me that. You made it pretty damn clear you didn't want my mom, so don't think you get to pretend we're any relation._

"Except for the fact that I've fascinated you all your life," he fired back with no small amount of pride, her thoughts and memories plain to him. "Yes, Sinthea, I can see that, too. When you were a child and you played Captain America with your little friends, you _always_ volunteered to play my part. You are not untouched by your grandfather, my dear…and today I will make you the inheritor of my _true_ power."

_You sure about that? You __**really**__ want to risk a repeat of what happened seventy years ago?_

"If it plays out the same way again, so be it," he said with a small shudder. "Either way, this body will still be of use. Perhaps we can find you a suitable mate and create me a proper host. Captain Rogers, perhaps?" he suggested, smirking to himself.

_Well, that's going to be difficult, seeing how he's gay and I'm a lesbian._

Again, he shuddered. "How is it that superior beings such as Rogers can waste their genetics on such a futile exercise?"

_You got a problem with homosexuality, gramps?_

"Not on _principle_, no…I have no care for who beds who…but it is an activity for lesser beings. It is not conducive to creating a superior line."

_Yeah, well, Rogers hates me anyway. He'll sleep with me when Hell freezes over._

"We will see, Sinthea. There are ways and ways again to skin a cat, as they say. Now, then, I believe we are nearly ready. Dreykoff and the others should be here soon."

_I know there's no point, but I'm going to at least __**try**__ to caution you against doing this at least one more time._

"Why?"

_Because there's no way to know how the serum will react with a body that contains two minds. My body may well just shut down and kill us both._

"Perhaps that is so, but I disagree. I think you and I are enough alike it will make little difference."

_See you in Hell, then, Johann._

"As you wish, granddaughter."

"Talking to yourself again, Schmidt?" Dreykoff's voice entered the room as the doors to the lab were pushed open, admitting the Russian and his entourage, along with the five disciples Schmidt had hand-chosen to be elevated to the rank of Skull's Own…the five of his followers who would be administered the serum once they were certain it worked. These five moved in a circle, and at the center of that circle was Bucky, chained at the wrists.

"Well, are there a great many other people in the room worth speaking to?" Schmidt shot back. "After all, where would your Red Room be without my grandchild?"

"Probably the same place HYDRA would be without us: holed up in a cave somewhere worshipping crumbling photographs."

"There is nothing wrong with having dedicated followers, Grigori. In fact, I suspect-"

"Okay, girls, you're both very pretty," Bucky cut in with a roll of his eyes. "Would someone mind telling me what I'm doing here?"

"Well, Sergeant Barnes, it is my understanding you were not present when Erskine transformed your Steve into Captain America. I thought you might like to see the process in action," Schmidt explained, gesturing to the rig they'd set up. It wasn't a sealable capsule as Erskine's had been, but it was something similar.

"You…you mean you've got the serum formula?" Bucky asked, his gaze darting between Schmidt and the rig.

"My granddaughter does. It was the reason I chose her as my vessel…and not Captain Rogers."

Bucky froze at this, his gaze fixing solidly on Schmidt, who sneered at him.

"Yes. I knew you realized it. Anyone who has received the serum would be a genetically compatible host for me. I would have _much_ preferred the captain's body, but I had need of Sinthea's knowledge."

"The only way you're getting to Steve…is over my dead body," Bucky vowed, "and even then, I'm not gonna guarantee the damn thing's gonna _stay_ dead."

"A noble sentiment, certainly, but I always get what I want, Sergeant…even if it takes me a hundred years."

"Maybe you do, but nobody hurts Steve while I'm still breathing…_nobody_."

"Heheh, challenge accepted. In the meantime, let's get this body on a more equal playing field with all of you," Schmidt said, stripping down until Sinthea's body was completely naked. No one dared to comment on it. As he mounted the rig, laying down on the table, his five disciples, Alrik plus two other men and two women, all sank to their knees, giving Bucky a clear view of the proceedings.

The rig pretty much operated on its own once Schmidt had activated it, and the first step was actually injecting the serum. Schmidt's only visible reaction to the multiple injections was a sharp inhale and a slight widening of the eyes. Then several lighting panels drew in close, beginning the vita-ray saturation. Before long, Schmidt was barely visible beneath the brightness of the rays. Then the screaming started.

"Sir!" Alrik shouted, making to jump to his feet.

"_NO!_" a voice cried from somewhere in the screaming. "_Don't interfere!_"

Schmidt knew what it was to burn, of course, but this was somehow different. Women and men burn in different ways, after all, and he was also experiencing Sinthea herself burning. Her screams of agony filled his mind until almost nothing remained. When the very atoms are blistering, when every imperfection is burned away…what else can one do but scream?

Schmidt wasn't sure, but he felt he must have blacked out for a few moments when he suddenly woke to find himself surrounded by his disciples.

"Are you feeling all right, Sir?" Alrik asked him as he slowly sat up.

"I believe so," he said, his voice appreciative as he glanced down at the new body. Better defined muscles, of course, along with rounder hips and fuller breasts. When he got to his feet, he found he'd gained a good six inches in height.

"What do you think?" he asked them.

"Oh, Sir," one of the women, Skadi, breathed tremulously. "It's beautiful."

"It?" he asked sharply.

"You _must_ see it," she said, beckoning him over to a mirror, indicating he should turn around. As he did, he swept Sinthea's long red hair off his back and saw exactly what Skadi was talking about. In a deep red, nearly black color, the HYDRA symbol had appeared on his back as if tattooed there. Each limb undulated with every twitch of muscle, looking almost ready to come to life.

"Beautiful," Skadi repeated, reverently pressing a hand to the mark. Slowly, the other disciples joined her, each reaching forward to place a hand on Schmidt's back, and as he watched, he began to laugh.

"Hail, HYDRA…immortal HYDRA…we shall never be destroyed," he started slowly, and as he spoke, all the disciples fell to their knees in a circle around him. "Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place."

"Hail, HYDRA!" the disciples shouted as one, offering up the two-armed salute.

Breaking free from the devoted circle, the first thing Schmidt did was go straight to Bucky, who was staring at him with a look of barely concealed horror. They were about the same height now.

"I think, Sergeant, that you and I are going to have a lot of fun," he said, pressing Sinthea's still-naked body against his half-naked one and capturing his lips in a harsh, dominating kiss.

Then, before Bucky could even protest, the kiss turned into a powerful punch directly to his jaw. Bucky made no sound as he went down. If he started showing weakness now, it was going to be an even longer night than it was already shaping up to be.

XxX

_The children are actually born the next time Bucky's dreams take him to the underground labyrinth on the distant moon. The woman with Loki's eyes is sleeping on her bed, still clearly drained from the delivery. The twins are in a cradle next to the bed and one of them is beginning to fuss._

_Not really needing to think about it, he goes to the cradle and picks up the little one…the baby girl…and begins to rock her. **Hel**, a voice deep inside of him sings._

_The rocking doesn't help much and she begins to cry, so he sings for her…old lullabies, the ones he used to sing to Steve._

_**Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,  
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;  
Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,  
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away.  
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,  
List while I woo thee with soft melody;  
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,  
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.  
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.**_

_The little girl fusses a bit more, but the melody ultimately soothes her temper and she starts to coo for him. Too long without his sister, though, the baby boy also begins to fuss, so Bucky picks him up, too, and holds them both. The boy curls up against him easily, one tiny hand resting against his chest._

_**Fenrir**, that same voice informs him._

_Hel and Fenrir._

_**This is it,** he finds himself thinking. **This is what I gave my life for.**_

_He isn't sure why. He has no idea who these children are, but he still feels close to them…like he would give his life for them again if it was necessary. He has no idea why, but little Fenrir reminds him so much of Steve…and he knows this is impossible, given how young they are, but when he looks into Hel's eyes, he can almost swear he sees his own looking out._

_**Who are you?**_

Bucky woke from the dream with a start. He had the vague sense he'd been dreaming about babies, but the images were quickly slipping away.

Slowly sitting up from his cot, he took stock of himself. Schmidt's forced kiss had quickly devolved into a very violent beating. The former Nazi had been a little too eager to test out his new abilities. While Bucky was glad to note all the bleeding had stopped, there were still a few broken bones in the process of knitting themselves back together. He wasn't quite ready to face another session with Schmidt yet.

Looking to take his mind off it, he glanced over at Natasha, who was still sleeping, mostly soundly, on her cot. As far as he knew, they hadn't taken her out of the cell yet. Was it because of her he'd been dreaming about babies so often in the past few months? Her and Jane? Because…he knew it was something he and Steve could never really do themselves…and he _knew_ how much Steve would have loved to be a father? Were these dreams…perhaps a reflection of the feeling that he'd somehow let Steve down?

_Heheh, sure, Barnes. Let's talk about your inadequacy issues now that you're practically on death row,_ he thought bitterly, gingerly lowering himself back to the cot and facing away from Natasha so he wouldn't have to look at her stomach.

_Better hurry, Steve-o. At this rate, it won't take long for Schmidt to chip away my sanity._

XxX


	9. Do You Take

(A/N) As always, I adore all my lovely followers. You guys rock! And Mudkipz, don't be fearing, we _will_ get around to the mechanics of that at some point in the future.

Warnings: There is rape and self-harm in this chapter. While the rape isn't particularly graphic, I'd say the self-harm kinda is. Thou hast been warned.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 9: Do you take…?_

Clint flew through the few remaining hours of the night and most of the day, making certain they didn't have any sort of trace before landing on a small island in the Mediterranean.

"Nat and I use this place as a layover sometimes," Clint explained as he locked the jet down. "I thought somewhere remote would be best until we get our bearings."

"And it wouldn't behoove this quest of ours to head somewhere where there's a little more…information to be had?" Bruce asked, glancing through the forward windshield at the forest surrounding their landing site.

"I tapped a few contacts in-flight. Shouldn't take too long to turn up a lead. But for now, all we can do is wait."

Growling in frustration, Steve buried his fist in the steel wall of the jet, savoring the all too brief flash of pain that spiked up his arm.

"Feel better?" Clint asked.

"That…felt a lot better than it should have," he said slowly, eyeing the fist-shaped indentation he'd left in the wall with trepidation.

"Well, if you need something to punch, I'd advise doing it elsewhere. We're gonna need this bird in a few days."

"Right," Steve said, nodding to himself as he exited the jet and headed off into the forest. It had been a long time since he'd felt like this…nearly a year, in fact. Normally, whenever this feeling of helplessness crept up on him, he could just hang up a few punching bags and go at it, but there were none of those to be had just now…and he found himself a little frightened by how much he'd liked the feeling of pain when he'd punched the jet wall.

Knowing he shouldn't do this…that it was stupid and that Bucky would kill him if he ever found out…Steve mounted his shield on a tree and began to punch it.

The pain was sharp and instant. The vibranium didn't give an inch, but the bones in his hands certainly started to. It wasn't necessarily the _pain_ he enjoyed; it was the _punishment_. In some therapeutic, psychotic way, punching the star-and-striped shield was a little like punching his own face.

_This is __**your**__ fault! You __**let**__ this happen! You could have fought harder! Something! __**Anything!**__ What good are you if you can't even protect the only person you __**love?!**__ Go on! Tear yourself up some more! You __**deserve**__ this! Do you feel this __**pain?**__ They're hurting him now…just like this…_

_Damn it! Damn it! **God damn you!**_

It was hours later and long after dark when Clint found him. At first, the archer couldn't see how serious the situation was. He just saw Steve flying at his shield over and over again.

"Y'know, this isn't exactly what I had in mind when I said go punch something," he said, aiming for levity. Steve didn't seem to hear him, though. He just went at the shield all over again.

"Hey, Cap, take it easy. You're not-" That was when he noticed the formerly red, white, and blue shield was only red. The invulnerable metal was dripping with blood.

"Steve! What the Hell are you _doing?!_" he shouted, moving forward to try and stop the berserker super soldier. Steve easily threw him off, though. Clint could actually _hear_ the crunch of broken bone as his fist connected with the shield yet again.

"Don't make me get Banner out here, Rogers, cuz I will," he threatened as he moved into Steve's furious path. The blow Steve dealt him was strong, easily knocking him off his feet, but it wasn't this that stuck with him…it was the fact that whatever had connected with his face hadn't felt very much like a fist…not anymore.

"Damn it, Steve, pull it together!" Clint shouted as he got to his feet. "What would Bucky think if he saw you like this?"

This was the trigger that finally cooled Steve's rage. He dropped to his knees just a step from his shield, staring up at his symbol…covered in his blood.

"God," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "Jesus…_Christ_."

"What were you trying to do?" Clint asked as he moved to sit beside him.

"It…it healed the first time…so I kept doing it," he struggled to explain, not really looking at his friend. "I wanted…to feel _pain_…like _he's_ feeling pain…"

"You're gonna need those, you know," Clint pointed out, glancing down at Steve's mangled hands.

"Doesn't matter. They'll be fine in a few days," he mumbled.

"You think I don't get how this feels? They've got _my_ family, too…the only family I have. You can't just fall apart like this. Punishing yourself isn't going to save them."

"It isn't…just that…feeling guilty for what happened. I've been feeling this…for _months_," he admitted, both to Clint and himself. "Ever since I asked him to marry me…I feel like…every moment we share couldn't possibly be real…that it's all going to be over any minute. I feel like…he's fading away…disappearing from me…like I'm losing him all over again…and there's nothing I can do to stop it. What Mimir said…just made it worse…about him not having a name. It was suddenly like everyone else could see what I'd been feeling all that time."

"That…that's something to do with how their magic works," Clint tried to explain. "I saw some of it with Loki. Knowing someone's true name can give you power over them…and this Mimir character must be some kind of powerful if he can just pull true names out of a hat like that. Must have bothered him…that he couldn't see Bucky's name."

"But…why couldn't he?" Steve asked miserably, as if not knowing was causing Bucky to slip even further away from him.

"It's all based on descent with these guys. You have to know where you came from in order to understand where you're going. It's all about who your father was…like Tony and Howard, Thor and Odin, I guess your dad's name was Joseph."

"Well…Bucky never knew his parents. He was dumped at the orphanage when he was barely a few hours old. Could be his mom didn't even _know_ who his dad was."

"So you think he was abandoned?"

"We're pretty sure. Whoever his mom was…she didn't even take the time to name him…didn't leave a note or anything," he said. He would have clenched his hands into fists if they'd been in any condition to do so. Bucky had always tried to forget about it, but it was a source of constant anger for him that someone could just _leave_ Bucky…abandon him on a doorstep…treat him so poorly…when he was the absolute center of Steve's world. If they'd cared…even a little bit…they could have at least _named_ him…but they hadn't, and Steve had always been the angrier for it.

"Then…I guess…the Asgardians might see him as being incomplete in some way."

"That's _bullshit!_" Steve hissed.

"I didn't say it was true. I'm just trying to help you understand what Mimir said, because it isn't about not knowing your dad…he called me Clinton Jackson, and I know the name of the guy who died in the crash wasn't Jack…so I guess my mom was foolin' around or something. Point is _I_ didn't know that, so that isn't why this guy can't see Bucky's true name."

"Maybe…something really _is_ wrong…and he's really disappearing…" Steve whispered, barely able to get the words out for the fear that was choking his throat.

"Can't be thinking like that if we're gonna get through this."

"No…I know that…I just…I think that's why I did it," he said, glancing down at his hands, "because…for a little while there…I felt like the only way I could hold onto him was…to punish myself…and I don't bleed any other way but this. It just heals."

"You do know that's crazy talk, yeah?" Clint asked, his tone neutral, but his eyes filled with concern for his friend and captain.

"I know…but I guess you do go a little crazy…being on ice for seventy years," he said, still staring at his bloody hands.

"Just so we're clear, I _am_ gonna tell him about this when we find them," Clint said, not even a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

This finally got Steve to look up. "Why does he have to know? Why does _anyone?_"

"Anyone remember what happened _last_ time we started keeping secrets from each other? I seem to recall you feeling pretty hurt that Bucky was keeping something from you. Are you _really_ gonna do the same thing to him now? If you don't tell him, I will."

"All right, fine…but not until we've got the arc reactor issue resolved."

"Fair enough," Clint started as he got to his feet, then hauled Steve up by his shoulders. Then he went for the still-dripping shield and slung it over his own shoulders. "We should probably be heading back, though. Banner's gonna be wondering."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, following after the archer as he led the way back to the quinjet.

XxX

The only way Natasha and Bucky had of keeping track of time was that their captors would dim the lights in their cell for an appropriate number of hours to correlate to night. Whether it actually _was_ night, they had no way of knowing, but after about a week of these cycles, the guards came for them, led by Gudrun.

"Herr Schmidt requests an audience with the two Avengers," she announced.

"Well, how _magnanimous_ of him to refer to it as an audience," Bucky said, crossing his arms as he rose from his cot. The guards moved in to surround him and Natasha and Gudrun led the way out into the hallway.

As they moved, Bucky began to see cells…not like the closed off one he and Natasha shared…more like county jail cells, closed off only by bars. Some were empty; others were occupied…the one that stuck with him the most, though, was the sight of a little girl sitting in her cell, curled into a ball, and repeating to herself over and over again…

"Eve Meier, Eve Meier, Eve Meier, Eve Meier."

"What's she doing?" Bucky asked Natasha quietly.

"They're erasing her name," Natasha explained, keeping her face carefully blank.

"What?"

"You know how…if you repeat a word over and over again, it starts to lose meaning? It just becomes noise…a few syllables on your tongue that don't mean anything. That's what this is. They force the initiates to repeat their names…all day…and if you don't do it, you don't eat or sleep. It takes about a week to lose your name."

"My God," Bucky murmured, glancing back over his shoulder at the quickly receding cell, Eve Meier's voice fading into the background. "She…she can't be more than _five_."

"That's how old _I_ was. It's not so much that you _forget_ your name…it just stops _meaning_ anything. It's just something they call you…until you earn a new name. You forget the people who gave it to you…the life you had."

"How…how did _you_ escape?"

"Clint pulled me out…literally out of Hell…with his bare hands," Natasha said, not looking at him as they moved.

"So they _can_ be…brought back?"

"Sometimes. You have to _want_ to come back. Normally, they don't. How many people would _want_ to wake up from this…and see what they've become?" she asked, still staring straight ahead.

"Well…we did," Bucky pointed out, resting a hand on her shoulder. Letting go a sigh, Natasha's shoulders slumped slightly, but she nodded, letting him know she'd heard. They were silent the rest of the way to Schmidt's quarters…which were quite plush in comparison with the Spartan accommodations they'd grown used to, and very highly favoring the color red.

"You know, Sergeant Barnes, I remember you," Schmidt said as he appeared from behind a red curtain, clothed in a tight leather suit. "From the factory…before the captain went on his rampage…I remember you."

"Is that supposed to flatter me?" Bucky asked, watching their enemy through narrowed eyes.

"Very much so. You see, you outlasted Zola's other subjects…_long_ outlasted. I had an inkling then of what you might become. I find myself wondering where we would be now if I'd seized my opportunity then, but no matter. We are here now," he said, moving toward a table on which was set a bottle of vodka and three glasses. "Would either of you care for a drink?"

"Pregnant," Natasha said.

"No thanks," Bucky said, mistrustful of the feigned politeness. The Skull he was familiar with didn't play games like this.

"Suit yourselves," he said, pouring himself a glass and downing it quickly. "She does not drink alcohol, this woman. It bothers her that I do this."

"Ah," Bucky said, the game starting to make a little more sense. Schmidt wasn't just at war with them; he was at war in his own head, fighting against his body's rightful owner.

"Shall we be frank with each other, Sergeant?"

"Yeah, we could do that. That'd be nice," he said, watching every move Schmidt made.

"You have proven yourself resilient against torture of many forms. Your own pain seems to mean very little to you."

"Yeah, well, you do tend to get bored with it after a few months," he said casually.

"Shall I be honest and say that I mean to torture you…worse than you have _ever_ been tortured in your life?"

Bucky actually laughed at this. "Okay, Schmidt, I'm sorry, but what do you think you can do? What can you _possibly_ do to me that Loki hasn't done first and done better?"

"There is…_one_ pain you haven't yet suffered, James, but that will come in its own good time. Were you aware I witnessed what the Asgardian did to you?"

"No," Bucky said quietly, stiffening at the thought of _Schmidt_ watching the things Loki had done to him.

"Yes. Loki's exploits were all well-documented. If you were to serve our masters, careful records had to be kept."

"Their masters?" Natasha asked, glancing sideways at Bucky.

"I had to be good for something other than serving as Loki's slave," Bucky explained without looking at her. "Otherwise, they wouldn't have let him perform the experiments in the first place."

"Just so. Did you know, Agent Romanoff, that the Winter Soldier is a name that inspires terror throughout the galaxies? Your ally is a murderer more times over than you can imagine…more even than you yourself are. Can you imagine what our dear captain would think if he knew?" Schmidt queried, moving toward them, getting right up in Bucky's face. The former mercenary didn't react at all.

"He wouldn't care," Natasha stated flat out, speaking to Bucky rather than to Schmidt. "You mean the world to him, and he knows what happened before wasn't your fault."

"I know that," Bucky said softly, not really speaking to any of them. "He'd never _blame_ me for anything I've done. I can do no wrong in his eyes…but it would still hurt him…to know what they made me do."

"And that's the point of all this…to hurt _him_," Schmidt said, running a finger along his bare chest. Bucky turned his face away. "It won't be your own pain that destroys you and resurrects the Winter Soldier…it will be the pain you cause your _love_."

And with that, Bucky knew he had already lost. Schmidt had him all figured out. Hurt _him_ and he wouldn't even flinch. Up until a year ago, he had lived with the pain of unrequited love most of his life…and he had endured the worst physical tortures devised by both men and Asgardians. Pain meant _nothing_ to him. _Steve's_ pain, on the other hand…to know that he was to be used as the object of torment for the only person he loved…that was the one thing he could _not_ endure…the one thing that would _break_ him. Bucky was so lost in the horrifying realization, he almost didn't notice when Schmidt pressed his lips to his. He _did_ hear what he whispered against them, though.

"I'm going to bed you, James."

Natasha almost laughed, trying to make light of his intentions. "You? Rape him? How's that going to work, exactly?"

"As these things usually do. You see, Agent Romanoff, this isn't _about_ him, and he knows that. He is nothing but an object…a pawn to be used in the battle between myself and Rogers. He is _nothing_," Schmidt hissed, and in that hiss, he slipped the silver engagement ring from Bucky's finger.

Instantly, Bucky exploded. He threw off the guards and snapped the chains that held his wrists, heading straight for Schmidt, who swiftly thrust his knee into his gut. This didn't stop him, though. He continued his pursuit.

"_Put it down __**now!**_" he shouted. "_Get your filthy hands off it!_"

"Ah, ah, ah, ah," Schmidt chastised him when he got a hold of him, wrapping his hands around his throat. Then Bucky heard the sound of a trigger cocking.

Slowly, he looked back to see several of the guards holding Natasha while Gudrun held her gun, not against her head, but against her stomach. Natasha's face had gone white.

"Certainly, your own pain means nothing to you…but what about _hers?_ You swore to protect them, after all. Perhaps the agent would survive…but the child would not. So go ahead…struggle, fight me for the ring…it will make our coupling more interesting…but if you get out of hand, little soldier, Natasha Romanoff forfeits her one chance at being a mother."

Slowly, Bucky let his hands fall away from Schmidt's throat, staring at nothing as his enemy led him over to his bed. The situation was hopeless…utterly un-winnable.

It killed something in Natasha to see her powerful comrade defeated so. Bucky was strong…even ruthless, if the situation called for it…and the Black Widow bitterly wished that his fall didn't have to be on her hands. She wished she could tell him not to worry about her…not to give in to the Red Skull, that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself…and in any other situation, she would have been, but the instinct to protect her baby was too strong, and the only way she could win now…was not to fight…and she would have to give Bucky as a sacrifice in order to do that.

_Bucky…I'm sorry. I'm __**so**__ sorry…_

Bucky lay down on the bed without too much coaxing, and Schmidt took the opportunity to secure him to the headboard with the pieces of broken chain at his wrists. Bucky growled at him, struggling briefly when Schmidt placed the ring on his own finger, but one glance in Natasha's direction was all it took to quiet him.

"Gudrun?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"You may take Agent Romanoff back to her cell now. She has served her purpose; I have what I need right here with me."

Once they were alone, Bucky finally looked up at Schmidt and asked him, "So how exactly do you expect me to get up for you? Cuz this…this really isn't doing anything for me," he said, trying to reclaim some small measure of his dignity.

"Still trying to be brave are we? I think you _know_ what happens if you prove incapable of performing…little soldier," Schmidt repeated Loki's demeaning pet name, and it was this, more than anything, that roped Bucky into submission. The name took him back to dark places…places he never wanted to go again…but he couldn't afford to shut down now. So instead, he sunk his mind into a memory of Steve…a night when all the others had been out doing something or other…and he'd given the super soldier a blowjob in the lounge the Avengers usually inhabited. The nearness of discovery…along with the sounds of Steve's moaned protests in his memories…were not hard pressed to get the former mercenary turned on.

It was a struggle to remain so, though. As Schmidt stripped them both of clothing, the phrase was burned into his skin by the Red Skull's lips over and over and over again…

"Little soldier…little soldier…my little soldier…"

He was trapped…trapped in darkness and despair all over again. On the outside, it might have looked like a man and a woman having sex, but to Bucky, it was like being buried alive…unable even to draw breath to scream.

_Steve…I can't…I can't __**do**__ this. I'm not strong enough. Please…I need you…__**save me!**_

By the time Schmidt had finished with him, Bucky had shut down completely. He lay on the red silk sheets, staring blankly up at the ceiling while Schmidt sat on top of him, still joined with him as he ran his fingers along his heaving chest.

"Good boy, James…an exemplary performance. I'll look forward to the next time."

_Next time?_ The horrible phrase echoed in a distant, barely-aware part of his brain. He had barely endured _this_ time. What hope did he have of bearing it again? However, just when he thought he might lose his grip and slip permanently into madness, an image swam to the surface of his addled mind…Steve's face…that day on the train…the absolutely _destroyed_ look in his eyes as he fell…

_No…can't let go…can't die now…it'll kill him. He still needs me…gotta…hang on…'til he comes._

By the time Bucky's thoughts resolved themselves into coherency after his near brush with insanity, he found himself being shoved back into his cell, collapsing to his knees as the door clanged shut behind him.

"Bucky…are you all right?" he heard Natasha asking him. "Did he hurt you?"

"'m not…hurt," he mumbled, even though it wasn't true. He hadn't been _physically_ harmed. Slowly, he looked up to find Natasha crouched over beside her cot in a similar position to his own. "What's wrong?" he asked her.

"Zasha's…going crazy in here…has been ever since they got me back in the cell. I can't…really move," she struggled to explain, wincing in pain.

Nodding his understanding, Bucky crawled over to her, draping an arm around her shoulders.

"Would you mind…if I tried something?"

"At this point, I'll try anything," Natasha groaned.

"Lie down," he said softly, and she quickly complied. He lay down behind her, draping an arm around her middle and pulling her body close against his.

"What are you going to do?"

"Gonna sing to her," he explained. "I used to do it for Steve…back when we were kids."

"Well…if you think it'll help…"

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I long to hear you,_

_Away you rolling river,_

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I long to see you,_

_Away, I'm bound away_

_'Cross the wide Missouri._

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I love your daughter,_

_Away you rolling river,_

_For her I'd cross_

_Your rollin' water,_

_Away, I'm bound away_

_'Cross the wide Missouri._

As Natasha listened to his song, she actually felt tears spring to her eyes. She heard in his voice that this wasn't just a song for Bucky. It was a vessel…for both heartbreak and love. In a way…the melody was his soul…and the soothing vibrations of it that traveled through their bodies actually seemed to be calming the baby.

_'Tis seven years,_

_I've been a rover,_

_Away you rolling river,_

_When I return,_

_I'll be your lover,_

_Away, I'm bound away_

_'Cross the wide Missouri._

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I'm bound to leave you._

_Away you rolling river,_

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I'll not deceive you._

_Away, I'm bound away_

_'Cross the wide Missouri._

By the time Bucky had finished, both Natasha and the baby had fallen into a much-needed sleep. Bucky didn't sleep himself, couldn't, really…but he did continue to hold the sleeping Black Widow. Neither of them could be with whom they wanted to at the moment, so this would have to do instead.

XxX

To say that Tony Stark was no stranger to captivity was a cruel and insensitive joke. Tony would laugh at it, of course, Tony being Tony, but the utterer of said joke would soon find himself dangling from the roof of Stark Tower.

Thankfully, though, S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't yet employed anyone stupid enough to make such a joke, and the fact that Tony was essentially being held captive by both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Asgard aboard the Helicarrier whilst he worked on the new arc reactor remained more implicit than anything else.

It had taken nearly a week to negotiate the terms of the Tesseract's use with Odin, and after another week of work, Tony had just about gotten a working prototype of the reactor technology amalgamated with Tesseract energy…and if the Asgardians didn't reserve the right to pull the plug on this model, he might almost consider making one for himself, given the increase in energy output this new model was displaying.

A test with the prototype seemed to be going well when the red alert suddenly sounded throughout the ship. Tony quickly backed away from the rig that held the reactor with a look that very much said 'I didn't do it.' Because of course, he would be only too glad to take the credit if he _had_ done it. Momentarily, though, the alert was shut down, and Fury's thoroughly irked voice sounded over the PA.

"Thor! Just because Jane went into labor early does _not_ give you license to use the alert system."

XxX

After the first incident with Schmidt, Bucky and Natasha took to sleeping on the floor of their cell, as it was somehow more comfortable than the cots, and it was also a slight form of rebellion against their captors, which did help to bolster their spirits, even if only by a little bit.

It would be more accurate, though, to say that Natasha slept. Bucky usually stayed awake, unable or unwilling to sleep by turns. His sessions with the Red Skull sent him back to Loki's torture chamber often enough and he knew that his nightmares would be a thousand times worse, so he tried to avoid sleep when he could.

During this particular night cycle, Bucky found himself flirting rather dangerously with an exhausted sleep when he heard the door to their cell opening. He felt Natasha stiffen in his arms, waking instantly at the noise.

"Agent Barnes? Agent James Buchanan Barnes? Can you hear me?" a voice asked quietly. Bucky glanced over his shoulder to have a look at the intruder. The uniform said he was Red Room and not HYDRA.

"What do you want?" he asked sharply.

"The security in your cell has been shut down for the moment. We can speak freely here. I'm not 2R. I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. undercover, and I need to speak with you."

Slowly, Natasha sat up, afraid to look behind her. Perhaps Bucky didn't recognize the voice of this man, but she certainly did. It had been two years since she'd heard his voice in her earpiece, nagging at her to be careful, saying that drinks were on him if she and Clint came home alive from their latest mission.

"Phil?"

XxX

(A/N) (Gasp!) So, just cuz I'm curious, did you guys totally see that coming or did I manage to pull a fast one on you? Lullaby is _Shenandoah_ (one of its many variants, anyway). And if you're confused, don't worry. It will all sort itself out in the end; I _do_ know what I'm doing (although, I imagine most of the time I just come off as being a nutjob, eheh).


	10. Now and Forever

(A/N) So sorry for the delays this week. The common cold has struck! As it so often will this time of year.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 10: Now and Forever_

"Hey, Natasha."

The Black Widow slowly got to her feet, still not turning around.

"Hey?" she hissed. "You're dead for two years and all you can say to me is 'hey'?"

"What do you _want_ me to say? It's the job. Only the boss knew. They didn't even tell Sharon or Sinthea…or Maria."

Finally turning, Natasha saw what she knew she would…her old handler. His hair had been trimmed down to a buzz cut and he was wearing the black and red-trimmed suit of a Red Room higher up, but it was still him…Phil Coulson. Swiftly, she approached him and delivered a blow to his jaw. Coulson barely staggered.

"Probably deserved that," he muttered, cracking his jaw. That was when Natasha threw her arms around him.

"You _idiot!_"

"Glad to see you, too, Nat," he said, returning the hug.

"Still don't get to call me that," she sniped at him as she backed away, her composure already returning.

"So…someone wanna fill me in?" Bucky asked, also getting to his feet.

"Sorry. Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D.," the man said, extending a hand, which Bucky shook, "and you are Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, formerly of the Howling Commandos. I've got a few trading cards of you."

"Ex…cuse me?" Bucky said slowly, not comprehending. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Here we go again."

Coulson briefly glanced down at his feet. "Well, you see, I collect Captain America trading cards and…you were Captain Rogers' partner, so of course they made a few of you."

"Oh," Bucky said, his eyes widening in realization. "You're the one Steve told me about…the one they thought died during the Chitauri War."

"What _did_ happen…that day?" Natasha asked him.

"Well, I don't know if you'll have heard this, but I was Sinthea's first trial when she was recreating Erskine's formula. We actually performed the serum infusion that afternoon in her lab."

"Really? Could've fooled me," she said, eyeing him up and down. "You don't _look_ much like a super soldier."

"I'll surprise you. Strength and endurance have definitely increased, along with immunity. I haven't even had a cold these past two years. Plus, I survived the stab wound long enough for the medics to get to me."

"And…appearance?" Natasha pressed.

"The idea is that the serum amplifies what you are on the inside. I didn't expect to change when I volunteered for the procedure. I enjoy it a little too much when people underestimate me. Makes their shock that much more fun. I guess what I am on the inside…is a bit of a trickster."

Natasha shook her head. "I suppose I shouldn't be _too_ surprised by that. Good to have you back, Coulson."

"What was it you needed to talk to us about?" Bucky asked.

"What they've got planned for you. I can't spring you, so Fury thought you ought to be prepared. Natasha…I'd hate to have to tell you this, but…Dreykoff's not going to wait for you to carry Zasha to term. The moment they think she's viable, they're going to take her from you."

Natasha sighed, resting a hand on her baby bump. "I thought that might be the case. I was wondering why they insisted on all the checkups, but…there's still time, isn't there?"

Coulson shook his head. "Not as much as you might think. With their equipment, viability could be as early as twenty-seven weeks."

Natasha froze at this. "How…how long have we been here?"

"Three weeks."

"Then…there're only three weeks left," she said, her eyes widening in barely concealed horror. "Clint…Clint and Steve…where are they?"

"Currently off the grid and on the run. Dreykoff turned the council against them. We've got no way to contact them."

"And S.H.I.E.L.D.? Do _they_ know where we are?"

"I did tell the boss; we're currently in an underground complex on the outskirts of Berlin…but he can't just burst in here right now. If S.H.I.E.L.D. comes in guns blazing at the wrong time, it'll only make the situation worse. I had a pretty good handle on the Red Room's plans until HYDRA came along. Now, with this alliance, there's something completely different happening. Something big's going on."

"Whatever master Loki was serving…Schmidt's with him," Bucky said.

"Really?" Coulson asked. "Those guys again?"

"He said that…it's not his job to go after the Tesseract. The Skull's just supposed to punish the humans…the Avengers…for what happened two years ago."

"Hmm…if that's the case, it could be 2R is growing an army for him…or…not so much an army as a task force…a small band of fighters," Coulson speculated. "HYDRA's got lots of drones working for them, but a single 2R agent is worth about twenty HYDRA soldiers…except this Skull's Own group. Three of them have been given the serum already."

"And what was the result?" Bucky asked.

"Eerie," the agent said, shuddering at the memory. "Super enhancements and the like, yeah, but…these guys are acolytes…followers. They wound up looking like wraiths…ghosts…white skin, yellow eyes…not gonna lie; it's pretty creepy."

"And the initiates will be next," Natasha said, clutching her stomach in white hands. "How young will they go? Will they infuse them all at once?"

"Right now, the plan is to start with the oldest and see how it goes. There are three definitely in line and Dreykoff's considering a fourth. He's planning to test them against you, Agent Barnes."

"Me?"

"Yes. You're the only enemy they have in custody whose strength is comparable to what the serum produces."

"And you can't spring us?" Natasha asked him.

"Believe me, I would, but you two are the most high profile prisoners they've got. We'd be dead before we even made the elevator."

Though Natasha nodded her understanding, she couldn't help the tremors that ran through her body. The next thing she became aware of was a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she was met with Bucky's fierce gaze.

"Don't worry. They'll find us. They'll come."

_But will they come in __**time?**_

"I'll see what I can find out about Schmidt's plans. Maybe the boss can move the guns in a little faster…and I _have_ been trying to get your ring back, but he never takes it off, and I can't risk getting any closer without Sinthea recognizing me and tipping him off."

Bucky stared at Coulson for several moments, not quite sure what to make of the agent. Ultimately, though, all he could say was, "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Sergeant Barnes," Coulson said, a slightly loopy grin frozen on his face as he backed out of the cell.

"In answer to your question," Natasha started, regaining a small measure of her composure, "yes, he's really just like that."

XxX

Jane Foster was a strong, healthy Midgardian, and childbirth under normal circumstances wouldn't have been any problem for her. Giving birth to a baby that was part Asgardian, however, was a bit more of a challenge.

Most first-time mothers are in labor for several hours. Jane was in labor for about one. Their son didn't give her body a chance to open…to stretch in order to accommodate him. He just came gallivanting into the world, much like his father had…and Thor would have been pleased and proud about this were it not for the fact that Jane looked pale as death and was struggling for breath once the golden-haired little boy was born.

Thankfully, Mimir was on hand to tend to the worst of her injuries. She would just have to stay in bed for a few weeks. None of it could manage to dampen her spirit, though, when Thor finally placed their baby boy in her arms. He latched onto her right away, eager for his first meal, and Jane all but wept at the sight of him…wispy golden hair curling around his head, tiny fingers clutching at her breast.

"He is strong," Thor said, grinning like an idiot as he wrapped an arm around Jane's shoulders.

"He's beautiful," Jane said, holding him a little tighter, reveling in the warm weight of him against her.

"So what's the little slugger's name?" Darcy asked as she entered the med ward with Erik.

"Balder," Thor answered, still smiling down at his little son.

"His birth certificate here's going to say Benton Blaze Foster, but his _name_ is Balder Thorson," Jane elaborated.

"He is named for my older brother…who died when I was still just a child, back during the war with the Frost Giants."

"You two'll be god parents, won't you?" Jane asked her friend and mentor.

"Of course," Erik answered right away, grinning at the little family.

"And you don't have to, like, be a couple for that at all?" Darcy asked.

"No, Darcy. You're good where you are," Jane reassured her. 'Where she currently was' was with Sif. She and Fandral had drifted apart a few months ago and Jane was pretty sure Darcy had slept with Volstagg at least once, and now it was Sif. Jane liked to joke that she was just working her way through the Asgardians, bed by bed.

"Then you can count on me," the young S.H.I.E.L.D. agent said, giving her friend the thumbs up. Almost in the exact moment she was giving the positive sign, though, something suddenly felt off to her, and if she had retained anything from her days in training, it was to trust your instincts, so she quickly drew her gun.

"Darcy? What's wrong?" Jane asked, holding Balder a little tighter on instinct.

"I don't know," she said, her eyes sweeping every visible corner of the room for the threat. Thor's eyes quickly joined hers as he summoned Mjolnir to him, seeking out any possible threat to his son. They soon found, though, that they were looking in the wrong direction.

"Jane!" Erik shouted. "Jane, the…the _boy-_"

The astrophysicist felt the problem barely a moment before Erik spoke. The warm weight of her boy in her arms suddenly became a cold wisp of vapor, and before her eyes, the baby just vanished.

"_No!_" she screamed, struggling to get out of the bed, but unable to overcome the pain in her body. "Thor! Thor, he's _gone!_ Our baby!"

Thor's features twisted in rage as he realized what must have happened. "Mimir," he growled low in his throat before storming out of ward, Darcy close behind him.

XxX

The trio of Avenger fugitives was mostly silent as Clint flew the quinjet over the Atlantic. It had taken longer than Clint had expected, but some of his contacts had managed to turn up some rumors about a secret international group operating in Germany. It wasn't much to go on, but it still narrowed their search area down from 'the whole damn globe,' as Clint had put it.

Nothing had been said about Steve's incident with his shield since it had happened, and as he'd said they would, his hands had healed up perfectly from the bloody pulp he'd beaten them to.

"French coast is about fifteen minutes away," Clint reported. Once they made land, the plan was to ditch the jet in the ocean and continue on foot…maybe get a hold of some bikes or a car…

…or at least, that _would_ have been the plan if things had decided to go smoothly for them, which they rarely did…and ten minutes out, Clint picked up a blip on radar.

"Incoming," Clint announced, knowing better than to think this blip wasn't after them. "Might want to strap yourselves in," he said to his cohorts. Bruce strapped himself down in back and Steve took the gunner's position.

The mystery jet made no attempt at contact and when they were in firing range, Clint swung around and Steve fired a volley.

They seemed to be doing well, but then, in the midst of the firefight, Steve was gripped by something else entirely.

_Steve…__**Steve**__…help us!_

Bucky's voice in his head…his face before his eyes…the ring…

_Steve!_

A flicker…Bucky pinned beneath Schmidt…his eyes dead.

_Steve?_

Bucky…_Bucky…__**Bucky!**_

_Steve…I can't…I can't __**do**__ this. I'm not strong enough. Please…I need you…__**save me!**_

Pain…

_A map…Berlin. __**Berlin!**_

_**Save me!**_

_**Bucky…?**_

"_I'm going to bed you, James."_

_Oh, Shenandoah…_

_Little soldier…_

_I long to see you…_

_**Little soldier…**_

"Steve! What's wrong?!"

"Steve!"

_Steve!_

_Oh, Shenandoah…_

_**LITTLE SOLDIER!**_

_I'm bound to leave you…_

"_Naaaagh!_" Steve screamed, clutching his head in his hands. "_No! Bucky!_"

_**Oh, God.**_

Then, at the very last, he felt a powerful electric jolt travel through his body, leaving him slumped over in the copilot's seat.

"Steve! Damn it! _Steve!_ Clint shouted, trying to shake him out of it. As far as the archer could see, Steve had been hit with some sort of seizure before slumping over in the seat, just about unconscious. Clint barely had time to notice the incoming pinpoints of light on the radar screen.

"Fuck! Heat-seekers!" he said, immediately forcing the jet on a collision course with the water. It wouldn't be fast enough. They'd be obliterated before they hit splash down.

Before Clint had time to deliberate any further, a large green fist smashed through the windshield and he and Steve were both ripped from their seats. Then they were plummeting through the air and a wave of heat and raining shrapnel was blasting down around them. The Hulk shielded them from both debris and impact as they slammed into the water.

Though he was barely conscious himself, feeling the sting of salt water in open cuts and the stiffness of battered limbs, Clint still managed to get a hold of Steve, who was even less conscious than himself, and get them to a bit of floating debris, leaving the Hulk to his own devices.

Roaring in rage, the Hulk seized one of the larger pieces of debris and flung it with all his might at the now low-flying jet, which had made the foolish move of circling back around to check for survivors. The jagged piece of metal tore straight through the aircraft, sending it plummeting toward the ocean.

And of course, their enemy wasn't lucky enough to have a Hulk on board.

Smirking in a rather pleased way, the Hulk kicked his way over to them, beginning to push their little raft through the water.

"Bucky…Bucky…" Steve groaned over and over again.

"C'mon, Cap, you gotta keep it together," Clint urged, struggling with unconsciousness himself.

"No…Clint, you don't…don't get it," he mumbled. "I…I _know where they are_."

Clint's relief and happiness hardly had time to register in his head before he finally lost the battle with unconsciousness.

XxX

Bucky, meanwhile, was also fighting a losing battle with unconsciousness after receiving a jolt from his ICD. Natasha had tried to talk him out of attempting to communicate with Steve telepathically, but his argument had been that they didn't have any other choice. They had to do _something_.

So Bucky had forged the connection through his power. He'd tried to let only the location through, but linking psychically was something he'd never done before, and he couldn't fully control what got through. The moment he felt the comforting warmth of his lover's mind, he couldn't help but let his guard down, letting flashes of what he'd been through the last few weeks bleed through.

_I'm not strong enough._

But then he'd realized just how much Steve was experiencing…how much it was hurting him, and he'd pulled back just as the ICD had activated, punishing him for using magic, but also saving his life, forcing his heartbeat back into a regular rhythm.

Natasha caught him as he fell, helping him to the ground.

"Hey! Are you okay? Did you get through? What happened?"

"I don't know. I don't know," he mumbled several times, tossing his head from side to side, unable to get the sound of Steve screaming out of his head.

_God damn it! What did I do? What did I __**do?! Steve!**_

XxX

Knowing his great uncle as he did, Thor didn't think he would remain on the Helicarrier, so he and Darcy headed straight back to Asgard…straight back to the small council chamber hidden behind the throne room, where Mimir spent most of his time. Sure enough, the old seer was there, holding a wriggling child in his arms.

"Uncle!" Thor shouted as he raised Mjolnir. "How _dare_ you?!"

"That was quick," the sorcerer commented casually. "I had hoped to have this taken care of before my illusion was noticed."

"What are you gonna do with the kid…Murmur, or whatever your name is?" Darcy demanded, leveling her gun at him.

"Nothing, really. I just needed a question answered."

"So that justifies taking our son without our permission?"

"You don't understand. If you-"

"If your scheme involves taking our child, I do not _want_ to understand! What gave you the _gall_ to do this?!"

"He did it because I gave him permission to," a new voice entered the confrontation. They all looked over to see Odin enter the council chamber.

"Father?"

"You see, when you were a child, back when Mimir's powers of foresight were at their strongest, he prophesied that a child of Thor would be the Odinson's undoing. I gave Mimir permission to attempt to discover if this was the child he'd foreseen."

"And what conclusion did you reach?" Thor asked, his glare shifting between the two.

"Your son is not that same child. Another's fate is in his hands."

"And this somehow made it okay to just _take_ him?!" Thor raged.

"As I said, I hadn't meant for you to even know he was gone."

"And you couldn't have just asked for permission?"

"Well, how would you have reacted if I'd asked to borrow your son for a reading because he may or may not be the death of you? No. It would have gone faster this way…were it not for the discovery. Who did figure it out?"

"That'd be me," Darcy said, lowering her gun only slightly.

"Ah. I suppose that mothering instinct kicks in early, then."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You shall see."

"Mimir, I shall have to insist you return my son this instant," Thor snarled.

"All right, all right," the old seer said, moving toward the fuming thunder god and passing the fussy baby to him. Thor hooked Mjolnir to his belt and cradled the little boy in both arms, turning to face his father as he rocked Balder.

"How could you condone this, Father? I wanted to do this properly. I wanted to bring Balder here with Jane to meet all of you."

"You…named him Balder?" Odin asked, a slightly stricken look in his eye.

"Of course we did."

"I am sorry, my son…but I hope you can understand. When that prophecy was first uttered, I had only just lost my firstborn. Then Mimir told me about _your_ end. Of _course_ I wanted to find a way to prevent it."

"And yet…this is not that same child," Thor pointed out. "You got Jane and I worried over nothing. You would have done better to just tell me."

"Perhaps…but I can understand a father's urge to protect his son. What would you have done if this _had_ been the child of prophecy? What if young Balder _had_ been the child destined to bring about your doom?"

"I would do nothing different than what I do now…take Balder back to his mother, as she is worried sick and cannot afford to put that kind of strain on her body after such a difficult labor. So if you will excuse me," Thor said, sweeping rather angrily out of the council chamber with Darcy right behind.

"Hey, thunder boy, look on the bright side. This means you and Jane'll definitely be having more kids," Darcy pointed out as she skipped along beside him.

"Yes…yes, I suppose that's…true…" Thor said, his voice trailing off as he looked down at his son. It was just about impossible to hold onto his anger when he saw the way little Balder was curled up against his chest, diligently sucking his thumb.

"He is…so tiny," he said quietly.

"Uh-huh, hard to believe that was you however many hundred years ago," Darcy trilled.

"True," he said slowly, his eyes glued to every little move the baby made. The odds were good little Balder would be just as big as him one day. Only…was it really possible he would one day have a sibling whose destiny it was…to _kill_ him?

XxX


	11. Until Death

(A/N) Still sick, but seem to be recovering. Cinnamon, I do believe your confusion ought to be cleared up in this first scene. Mudkipz, yeah, I've heard of that. No worries, I never had any intention of watching it…and now I suppose, rather than zero intention, I have negative five intentions of watching it.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 11: Until Death_

It was night by the time Steve came all the way around. He sat up slowly, finding that he'd been lying beside a campfire. Bruce and Clint looked over when he sat up.

"Evening, Sleeping Beauty," Clint greeted, passing him a large cut of meat that seemed to still be on the bone. Steve tore into the offering, mindless of what it actually was or whether or not it was properly cooked. It didn't take him long to devour it.

"How long have I been out?" he asked as Bruce passed him a canteen, which took a great deal of his discipline not to drain in one go.

"A few hours. Banner brought us in after the plane went down. I dunno what happened back there, but it must've been a doozey to keep you under this long."

"I'm sorry," he said, setting the canteen aside. "We were shot down because of me."

"No sweat…especially if, as you said before, you know where they are," he said, raising his eyebrows in interest.

"Berlin," he answered right away. "They're in a compound just outside the city."

"So Germany _was_ right…and how _did_ you find that out?" Clint asked, eyeing him out of the corner of his eye.

Steve stared into the fire for several moments before answering. "I…I think…Bucky linked with me."

"What? Do you mean, like…telepathically?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah…he always said it was something he wouldn't do…because Loki used to do it to him…but if they had no other choice, then…" he trailed off, unable to finish.

"Are they all right?" Clint pressed.

"We don't have a lot of time. They're gonna take Zasha. It's gonna happen soon. They aren't gonna wait the full nine months."

"But it…it isn't _time_ yet," Clint protested. "It's too _soon._ She'll _die._"

Bruce shook his head. "They don't mean for her to die, Barton. With the right equipment, viability's coming earlier and earlier all the time."

"We need to clear out as soon as we can. Where are we?" Steve asked them.

"In a forest a few miles from the coast. Haven't had much chance to scout. We're gonna need to scope out some kind of transportation if we're gonna get there in time. They're…they're not hurting them, though? It's just this viability deadline we have to worry about?"

"Natasha's fine," Steve answered, not looking at him.

"And Barnes?"

"Bucky…he…"

Steve _thought_ he knew what Bucky had inadvertently shown him. Loki had shown him similar scenes. The trouble was he didn't want to believe it…that his enemies would do these things to his best friend…his _love_…just because of the way he felt about him…just to get to _him_. Why couldn't they just hurt _him?_ Why did they have to take it out on Bucky?

_Because that's the one pain you __**can't**__ endure…the one thing you __**can't**__ bear,_ he answered himself.

Bucky _told_ himself he could withstand this kind of torture, but Steve could see the truth of it in his eyes…in his heart. James Buchanan Barnes was breaking…and he was fast running out of time to save him.

"They're hurting him," he finally answered. "We have to get them out."

XxX

It was several days before Bucky and Natasha were brought out of the cell again. They were taken to a dojo-style room and Bucky was pushed to the center while Natasha was held on the sidelines.

"So what's the deal, evil overlords?" he asked the mostly empty room. A few minutes passed before the 'evil overlords' entered from the opposite side of the room. Schmidt and Dreykoff kept their distance from each other, but they were both surrounded by their own entourages. Schmidt was accompanied by three of his Own, the two women, Skadi and Astrid, and whom Bucky thought he recognized as Alrik. It was difficult to tell, as the three were exactly as Coulson had described. Physically, they were all much more impressive, but their skin had changed to an eerie white color. Skadi's previously short brown hair was white, as was Astrid's formerly long blonde mane. To top it off, they all three had yellow eyes. The whites had shifted to yellow and the formerly red irises to black.

Dreykoff was accompanied by four others Bucky had never seen before. Two young men and a girl who wasn't quite a woman…the last of them was an even younger boy, some kind of Asian, by the look of him.

"'The deal', Agent Barnes, is that we decide who should be receiving the Schmidt woman's serum," Dreykoff answered. So these four kids were the Red Room's oldest initiates…only Coulson had said the oldest three were definitely in, so…the boy, then. Indeed, he was the one to step forward.

"James Barnes, this is Makoto Kajiura, fourth among my students, and I am interested in evaluating how he performs against you," Dreykoff explained.

"You guys are kidding, right? I'm not gonna fight this kid. He's…what? Twelve?"

"Fourteen," Makoto corrected, only slightly perturbed.

"Barnes, don't be noble," Natasha warned him. "If he's older than thirteen, he can definitely take you."

Bucky took a second look at his would-be opponent, reevaluating the situation. Makoto was small, but he was very well muscled for his age. Clearly, he'd trained hard. He wasn't posturing, either, spouting threats as boys tended to do. He just stood, evaluating him in turn. This boy was a trained fighter, to be certain…but he _was_ still a boy.

Dreykoff snapped, and almost before Bucky could blink, Makoto sprang into action. Strong? Not so much. Fast? Damn straight. The kid was like a whirlwind, moving everywhere at once, delivering harsh, jabbing blows unlike anything the former mercenary had seen before. Had he been any other opponent, this would have been a devastating opening move.

He wasn't just anyone, though. He was Bucky Barnes…the Winter Soldier…a product of Loki's torture chamber. Makoto's blows were more like mosquito bites to him, so he bore the onslaught with patience, forcing the boy to exert himself. When he took a step back to reevaluate his situation, Bucky moved forward, delivering a hard blow to the boy's gut, being careful to only use his flesh arm

Makoto cried out as he went down, hitting the ground and skidding several feet.

"You okay, kid?" Bucky asked, deciding that the glare the little Japanese boy threw him was answer enough. Then, Bucky sprang into his own plan. It was a stupid move, and it wouldn't accomplish much in the end, but it at least made him feel like he was doing _something_.

Bucky leapt at Schmidt, wrestling him to the ground before either he or his three acolytes could react.

"Give me my ring back!" he demanded, delivering a satisfying blow to the German's face.

More than anything else, Schmidt was angry at being caught off guard. Snarling, he fought back, wrestling with his prisoner for several minutes.

"You want me to give you a ring? Is that what I'm hearing from you, James?" he mocked.

"You fuckin' know what I mean, you bastard!" he shouted, scrabbling for the silver ring on his captor's finger, which he kept out of his reach.

"The only way you're getting this back is over this woman's dead body," he continued to snarl, finally ending up on top in the impromptu wrestling match. That was the moment something thick and slimy wrapped itself around Bucky's throat.

At first, both combatants were confused. The _thing_ seemed to come from nowhere….but then they followed the line of what was clearly a tentacle until it connected with Schmidt's back…having burst out of the leather top.

"Oh…" Schmidt murmured, a small note of excitement in his voice as he flexed the new appendage experimentally, drawing a strangled sound from Bucky's throat. "This is new…"

"Sir, it…it must be the mark…the HYDRA symbol on your back," Skadi said.

"Oh, yeess," he hissed as two new tentacles burst from his back, slithering around to capture more of Bucky's limbs, pinning him down. "I _like_ this. Is _this_ what you were afraid of, Sinthea?"

All told, there were six tentacles…six slimy, wriggling, _living_ tentacles…that extended from the mark on Schmidt's back, and by the time he'd gotten them all out in the open, Bucky was thoroughly imprisoned in their embrace…in more ways than the former mercenary cared to think about.

"Leave if you wish…or stay and watch," Schmidt announced to the room at large as Bucky struggled against the tentacles, "but I think the good sergeant and I are going to try a little experiment. These new appendages of mine must be properly _tested_, after all."

"Sometimes you make me wonder, Schmidt. You really do," Dreykoff said before turning and heading out. The initiates all followed…except for Makoto, who cast one last odd look at his former opponent before scurrying after the others.

Natasha looked torn for a moment before Bucky briefly managed to catch her gaze, shaking his head. No, there was nothing she could do about this, and no, he didn't want her to watch. This was a torture he would rather endure in private, if at all possible. What Schmidt was clearly about to do to him…

Natasha turned away, indicating to the two guards she didn't want to watch. One almost looked interested in staying, but the other gave him a small punch in the shoulder, shaking his head. No, that one _definitely_ didn't want to hang around.

The three acolytes were the only ones who didn't leave. They simply backed off, giving their leader the space he needed to have his way, leaving Bucky to struggle futilely against the nest of writhing tentacles.

Bucky didn't scream out loud; there was just no point to it. His pride didn't keep him from screaming inside his head, though.

XxX

The set up of the 2R cellblock was fairly simple. It began with the ten cells that housed the initiates. Five cells on the right for the boys and five on the left for the girls. It was a design that helped to degrade the ego and shame of the initiates. There was never any privacy. Each cell always looked in on the other. The rows of five weren't even hidden from each other. The walls between them consisted of bars. Only one cell on the girls' side was currently unoccupied…the cell that would be meant to contain Zasha.

Beyond the initiates' block were the closed off cells, like the one Bucky and Natasha were held in. Theirs was the one closest to the initiates' block, and if there were other prisoners being held in the sealed block, Natasha had never seen them.

The entire cellblock was sealed off from the rest of the compound, with only one way in or out. Once her two guards had gotten Natasha back to the cellblock, the second guard was so antsy, he seemed ready to piss himself. The first one sighed in disgusted frustration.

"Fine," he growled. "Go back and watch. You can always say you wanted to make sure he gets back to the block once that sick fuck's done with him."

The guard scurried off, leaving Natasha alone with the first. Instantly, the Black Widow put on a submissive air.

"Do you really need to put me back in the cell already? I really need to stretch my legs," she said, going more for helpless than coy, as she usually would. At six months' pregnant, she wore helpless much better than she did sexy right now.

The guard glanced from side to side, appraising the block. Most of the initiates were currently out in the compound for some type of training or other. The only occupied cell at the moment was the youngest girl…Eve. While interaction between the initiates was strictly controlled, any other type of interaction was a little fuzzier.

"I guess you can stay out while we wait for the Skull's toy. Just so long as you don't leave the block," he said before heading back toward the front of the block to guard the exit, leaving Natasha alone.

Once the guard was out of sight, Natasha moved toward little Eve's cell, sitting down in front of it. The girl was curled up on her cot, facing the back wall of the cell.

"Little one?" she called softly, placing a hand on the bars. "Do you know your name?"

Slowly, Eve rolled over to face her, her long blonde curls mussed and tangled.

"Rot…rot Zimmer?" she asked in German, her voice quiet…fearful.

Natasha shook her head. "Nein," she answered. She was most definitely _not_ Red Room.

As slowly as she'd rolled over, the girl nodded her head, her eyes wide and uncertain. "Eve," she answered, her tiny voice little more than a whisper.

"Das ist gut," Natasha reassured her, trying to keep the surprise out of her expression. Somehow, the name conditioning hadn't taken hold with this one. If it had, she would have already been trained to respond only with 'Dreykoff's Daughter' when asked her name.

"What are you doing?" a new voice demanded. Natasha looked up to see the boy from earlier coming down the block…Makoto. He was walking slightly hunched over, a hand held protectively over his stomach…probably the result of Bucky's attack, but at least he was still moving, much more than a lot of people who had taken a direct hit from the former Winter Soldier could say.

"Just talking to Eve here," the Black Widow answered, being careful not to make any sudden moves, though she did see movement out of the corner of her eye. Eve had jumped up from the cot and run to the bars, reaching a hand through.

"Mako!" she called, her voice still quiet, but full of excitement and warmth.

"Evie, you have to be careful," he said as he came to kneel beside Natasha, clasping the hand the little girl held out to him. "We don't know who might be watching."

"But it's okay," she insisted, switching to English. "She's not one of them."

"I'm not," Natasha attempted to reassure the boy, who was eyeing her suspiciously as he reached through the bars to hug Eve. "I was one of theirs before…but I got out."

"We'll see. Do you know your name?" he asked her, putting forth the old conditioning question.

"Natasha Romanoff. Do _you_ know _your_ name?" she returned. At fourteen, any name should have long been conditioned out of him…but he seemed to somehow still hold some affection for this little girl.

"Dreyk-" he began automatically before managing to catch himself. For a moment, he shut his eyes, keeping a fast hold on the easy phrase he wanted to let spill from his mouth, but he ultimately looked up at Natasha, meeting her probing gaze. "Makoto," he said slowly. "Makoto Kajiura."

"And _how_ do you still know your name?" Natasha pressed.

"I had a little sister…before they brought me here. I'd forgotten about her…but then they brought Evie in about a year ago, just when they were giving me mobility. She made me remember," the boy explained, affectionately ruffling the little girl's curls.

Natasha knew what he meant. It varied between initiates, but mobility was typically granted at about thirteen years of age. At that age, it was assumed an initiate had been in the Red Room's care long enough that there wasn't a need to keep him or her under such strict guard anymore. While they continued to live in the cellblock, they had more freedom to come and go as they liked once mobility was granted. Somehow, little Evie had managed to wake Mako up from the conditioning that had been inflicted on him…and he was keeping it from taking hold with her.

"Mako, are you okay?" Eve asked, seeing the way her surrogate brother winced as he crouched there with them.

"I'm fine…just a little rough training."

"A _little_ rough?" Natasha repeated incredulously, but Mako shot a look at her, shaking his head, telling her without words he didn't want to scare the little girl.

Natasha was about to ask more when a loud clang sounded from the entrance to the block. All three turned to look, seeing Bucky stumble out of the semi-darkness several minutes later.

"Barnes!" Natasha cried out, getting to her feet as fast as she could…just in time for Bucky to collapse against her, sending them both to the floor.

"Sorry 'bout that…Natasha," he groaned, his head pillowed against her stomach. "Don't think I…can stand…anymore."

"Shh…it's all right," the spy soothed him, almost as if he were a child who'd had a bad dream.

Bucky looked worse than all the times before when he'd returned from a session with Schmidt. There were several angry black and blue marks on his skin from where the tentacles had wrapped too tightly. He at least had his pants back on, but the way they were stained spoke louder than if he'd come to them naked. The cloth at the inner thighs was soaked with red and smeared with other fluids Natasha didn't really want to think about. There was no point in asking what Schmidt had done. The answer could be seen all over his wasted body.

_There really is going to be __**Hell**__ to pay when Steve finally shows up,_ Natasha couldn't help but think. Even though it wouldn't take Bucky more than a day or so to heal up from this, it would still mark him in some way…_scar_ him…as all these experiences inevitably did.

"They'll come…to lock us up…in a few minutes," Bucky rasped out, his throat absolutely wrecked, not from screaming, but from having a tentacle shoved down it. "I think…that pervert guard…just wanted…to scare you a bit."

"Hey, stop talking, okay?" Natasha scolded him, brushing some of the grimy hair from his sweat-streaked face. "I get it. Just rest for now. Rest…it'll all be over soon," she continued to soothe, hoping…_praying_…with every atom of her being it was true. Bucky was strong, yes…but how much more of this could he withstand?

XxX

Sinthea had been disgusted by the things her grandfather had done with her body from the moment his mind had first touched hers, but nothing had been more horrifying than what he'd done when the tentacles had burst from his back. Every time he took Bucky, it wasn't just him that he hurt; he was raping two people.

When it was over, Schmidt had been able to will the appendages back into tattoo form, leaving Bucky for some of the guards to clean up while he headed to the infusion chamber. It was, after all, the day they would begin infusion work on the initiates.

_It's exactly what I was afraid of,_ she said to her captor as they moved through the corridors.

"What?" he asked.

_That the serum would manifest your consciousness this way. It's what you are, after all…this disgusting creature…a __**parasite**__ in my body! You'll never be anything but __**hideous**__ when manifested by this serum, Red Skull!_

"Perhaps not," he said, the grin on his lips tight. "But if that is the price to be paid for this power, then so be it."

_And the initiates don't get a choice one way or the other? Just like your Own had no choice?_

"My followers want only to become stronger in my service. They have no purpose…other than to see _me_ succeed. They are part of something _larger_, you see."

_God, Gramps, you're a fucking psycho!_ She snarled.

"As you will, Granddaughter, but at the end of the day, _I_ am still the one in charge," he said as they entered the infusion chamber, where Dreykoff and his three eldest initiates were waiting.

"Had your fun, then?" Dreykoff asked him, a sneer on his face.

"I did at that. Danke sehr," he replied, approaching the infusion unit, which the oldest initiate was already strapped into. "Just the three of them, then?"

"Yes. We'll hold off on Makoto for now."

Brock Rumlow was the oldest of the 2R initiates at twenty-one, and he was already a big man, so the serum wouldn't change much there. The question was…what might some of the _other effects_ be?

"It will be interesting to see," Dreykoff said, as if he'd read his mind. "Brock has already been out on several assignments. He's even begun to earn a new name for himself."

"And what might that be?" Schmidt asked as he began to set the machine for infusion.

"Crossbones."

"And have the others earned names yet?" Schmidt asked as he took a step back, glancing at the other two. Alexei Shostakov was eighteen and much slighter than Rumlow, and at sixteen, the red-headed Belle Arnette was about his same height. Both eyed the machine with barely concealed uncertainty.

"No. Belle hasn't yet seen the outside and Alexei has only been on one assignment, but they are young yet. We shall see."

"We shall indeed," the Skull said, turning his attention back to the infusion chamber with a glint of excitement in his eyes.

Brock had been eager to go into the chamber…eager to receive the kind of power the serum could offer…and at first he'd grit his teeth, bearing the pain with a smirk…but even _he_ couldn't withstand being burnt to ashes and remade from them. He, like all the others who had come before him, screamed in agony.

As Sinthea watched the transformation through her stolen eyes, thinking that they meant to unleash this horror on children even younger…this horror that _she_ had created, all she could think was, _what have I done? What have I done?! __**What have I done?!**_

XxX

It had taken the three fugitive Avengers nearly two weeks to hitchhike their way across France, Belgium, and Germany. Both Clint and Steve were anxious to be moving faster, but they all knew they still had to be careful to stay off the radar. Bruce and Clint weren't particularly conspicuous, but Steve was a bit more of a problem. With his Captain America uniform and shield, he'd stuck out about a mile, so they'd had to take the time to at least find him a jacket to keep the stars and stripes hidden from prying eyes.

Between the three of them, they knew enough French and German to get by. They had discovered early on, though, in the stages of planning their attack on 2R that 'the outskirts of Berlin' still wasn't quite specific enough. Just because Bucky had known the compound was somewhere near Berlin didn't mean he knew exactly where, so there was still some scouting to be done when they arrived. They were currently bearing down on the city on a trio of motorbikes they'd stolen from a junkyard. While Bruce wasn't exactly a mechanic, he'd learned enough from Tony in order to get the machines running again, even if they didn't go quite as fast as the group would have liked.

Things seemed to be going well…so of course, Steve was on edge, keeping an eye on everything. It always seemed that just when things were going well, that was the exact moment an enormous wrench was thrown right into the middle of their plans.

And wouldn't you know it, barely a mile outside the city limits, the front tire of Bruce's bike exploded and he was sent skidding across the pavement, badly shredding the left side of his body.

Clint and Steve jumped free of their bikes the moment they heard the explosion, and sure enough the two vehicles followed Bruce's in a burst of heat and light. The two quickly huddled together at each other's backs, bow drawn, shield out, and cowl pulled up, searching for their attackers. Bruce's injuries were pretty severe, but they meant almost nothing, as his skin was already turning green and his muscles were beginning to bulge out. The Hulk soon joined their huddle-up with a roar.

"That's quick thinking. Way to stay on your toes," a voice called out to them through the noise of the halting traffic.

The three men looked back the way they'd come. There was a bit of pileup of traffic resulting from the explosion of the three motorbikes and there were already several panicked civilians in the streets. Through the horde of shouting people, though, emerged one who was calm, moving with absolute intent toward the three Avengers. Even if he weren't the only calm person in a sea of writhing panic, he would have stood out anyway. His skin was a very dark red, much darker than the Skull's, but it still had a similar effect, though this man still seemed to have a proper nose and hair. As he sized him up, Steve's only thought was…

"This kid's had the serum," he said out loud.

"Really?" Clint said with interest, his bow prepared to let fly an arrow. "Maybe he can tell us where they're keeping Nat and Barnes."

"My thoughts exactly," Steve said.

"My apologies for the pyrotechnics, my friends," the man said as he came closer, "but I'm afraid my comrade has a bit of a penchant for the dramatic."

"Comrade?" Steve repeated. No sooner had the word left his mouth than the sound of gunfire echoed from behind him. The Hulk was already roaring at their new opponent as he turned to glance at him.

This new man was yet another stand out kind of guy. As far as Steve could tell, his skin was all black, save for two very distinct marks on his face…two slashes of white, which brought out his eerie yellow eyes. As this one moved toward them, he came firing a pair of guns into the air.

"Where are they?" Steve demanded, not really caring who answered so long as one of them provided one.

"Right under your nose, dear captain. That's why _we_ were sent here."

"We didn't come here to play games," Clint warned the red-skinned assassin.

"Nor did we. Well…_I_ didn't, at least," he amended. "Sometimes, it seems to me that Crossbones is always playing games with his victims."

"Hey, Cap!" the one called Crossbones shouted as he drew closer. "Lose something?!"

Holstering one of his guns, the man held up something very tiny. Steve's improved eyes zeroed in on the object, realizing it was a ring…a silver ring…_Bucky's_ ring!

"_Where is he?!_" the now incensed super soldier shouted, breaking away from the knot of Avengers and bearing down on the other 2R agent.

"Cap!" Clint shouted, trying to draw him back, but that was the moment he felt something sharp dig into his leg. He turned back and fired an arrow at the red agent, who had fired a flechette gun at him. The pain of the new injury caused his aim to be just slightly off and his opponent was able to dodge the arrow.

"Damn fucking serum-assed bitches," Clint swore under his breath, readying another arrow.

Steve was normally a brilliant tactician and would never rush headlong into a fight unprepared, but the situation was a little different now. Seeing Bucky's engagement ring…that tiny, precious piece of metal that they'd made their promise on…seeing it in the hands of the enemy just caused something inside of him to _snap_. He was tired of playing the defensive and he was sick of letting these bastards walk all over him. He was sick to _death_ of it. So he launched himself at Crossbones, fully intending to unleash his full force and grind his face into the ground.

Crossbones was ready for him, though. When Captain America laid into him with both fists, he fought back every blow. Neither of them held back, delivering blows with all the considerable strength they both possessed…and for both parties, the effect was admittedly somewhat cathartic.

"I've got an idea," Crossbones taunted as the two duked it out. "How 'bout a trade? I'll let you have this ring…if you give me that pretty shield of yours."

"Not on your God damn life!" Steve shouted. "_Tell me where he is!_"

"You wanna know so damn bad?!" Crossbones returned, using Steve's desperate rage as a weapon against him, taking his moment of distraction and using it to tear the shield away from him, breaking his arm in the process. "Then I'll tell you," he said, pulling Steve up close against him with one hand as he slipped the silver ring onto his finger. Then he whispered something in his ear before flinging him across the road.

Steve landed hard just a few feet from Clint. Hawkeye saw it happening as the captain struggled to his feet, but he wasn't fast enough to stop it. Crossbones drew one of his guns and fired several rounds.

To Steve, it almost seemed to be happening in slow motion…but he was stuck in slow motion right along with it. He saw the gun fire, briefly saw the rounds heading toward him, tried to turn aside…not fast enough…felt the bullets tear through his chest. Then the world sort of went silent as he fell to his knees…feeling the blood rise in his throat…beginning to drip from his mouth.

Slowly, he raised the ring to his lips…kissed it…

"Buck…Bucky, I'm…sorry…I…"

…then he fell.

XxX


	12. Ashes to Ashes

(A/N) Still love all you lovely readers. And Mudkipz: the answer to that last question is a definite yes…which is why you'll see what he was doing while that was going on.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 12: Ashes to Ashes_

Bucky didn't know _why_ he woke up in the middle of the night cycle. There had been no dream or nightmare he could remember. All of a sudden, he was just sitting bolt upright, gasping for breath as sweat rolled down his face. He couldn't explain it, but deep in his core, he _knew_ something was wrong.

_Steve…?_

Then, just as suddenly, he felt his heart stop beating.

There wasn't time for it to do any damage. The moment the irregularity happened, he got a jolt from the ICD, forcing the ragged organ back in line. As he groaned in pain, clutching at his chest, Natasha was suddenly sitting up beside him, her hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong? What is it?"

"I don't know. I thought…I felt somethin'…and my heart…I just…I got a jolt. I don't know," he repeated helplessly, unable to explain what had just happened. As far as he knew, he hadn't been using magic. Was his body just shutting down on its own now or…had he…maybe…somehow been connected to Steve?

_Steve? Steve, where __**are you?**__ I need to see your face. I need to kiss you. I __**need**__ to know you're all right. Please…Steve…I don't know how much longer I can hold on. Just…just tell me you're all right, you bastard!_

XxX

The moment Steve went down, Clint snapped back into action. He briefly turned to glance back at his own opponent, who looked strangely shocked by what had just taken place.

"Rumlow, you idiot!" he shouted before running to join his associate. Out of the corner of his eye, Clint noticed Crossbones picking up the shield he'd torn away from Steve, slinging it onto his own back.

"Hulk!" he shouted at the green giant, who had literally been tearing up the pavement in order to prevent any civilians from getting closer to the fight. When the Hulk looked back and saw that Steve was down, he briefly froze.

"Get him clear!" Clint ordered. They had to get the captain somewhere at least marginally safe before the media swept in. There was no time to see to Steve himself, because Crossbones and the other agent were already on the move…slipping away…their only chance to find Natasha and Bucky.

Clint took off after the two agents as they disappeared into the forest beyond the highway, keeping them just in his sights. He knew they were faster than he was, but he could certainly pace himself, keep them at least within his grasp.

There was no time to worry about Steve…whether he was alive or dead…though Clint knew he couldn't hold out much hope after seeing that shot.

_Focus!_ He berated himself, keeping his sights fixed on his quarry. _If he's still alive, the only way to help him is to finish the mission._

As the two agents moved farther and farther into the woods, they began to slow, and it became less about keeping them in his sights as keeping himself out of theirs.

"Did we lose him?" Crossbones asked after a time

"I think so," his comrade said, not realizing that Clint was barely ten feet from them. Even with improved hearing, the archer knew it would be impossible to pick him out from the constant noise that still echoed from the highway. "What kind of stunt was that back there, Brock?"

"What?"

"Schmidt wanted the captain _alive!_ There's no way he survived that," he scolded him as they continued to move through the forest with Clint tailing just behind them.

"Don't be such a pussy, Alexei. Who gives a shit what that freaky German wants? I got myself a shiny new trophy…and I'll go down in the history books as the man who _killed_ Captain America. Not bad for a debut battle," he said, twirling Steve's shield in his hands as they moved.

"Well, don't come crying to me if Schmidt up and pulls your intestines out through your throat."

"Really think he could do that?" Crossbones asked, more by way of curiosity than actually fearing it happening to him.

"You saw what he did to Barnes. With those _things_ on his back, I don't know if I'd put _anything_ past him now."

"Maybe," Crossbones said, his voice still more a shade of interest than of fear. Then he and the other agent disappeared around a large tree and Clint couldn't see them anymore.

Giving the tree a wide berth in case of additional security, Clint circled around it, but he was unable to find the spot where'd they'd disappeared. Even though he couldn't see how, he knew this was the place they were looking for, and he needed to know how to get inside. So he selected on arrow from his quiver and fired it at the tree.

His arrow struck true, depositing an imaging device inside the wood before incinerating the very next moment. If he could get a hold of a computer, he'd be able to collect the data from the imager in just a few hours.

Marking the spot on the tree where the imager was concealed and also marking his place in the forest, Clint slowly headed back the way he came, uncertain if he was ready to face what may or may not be waiting for him.

XxX

Bucky and Natasha were awakened at the end of the night cycle by Schmidt storming into their cell, a look of absolute rage on his face.

"It's all over, James!" Schmidt snarled at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Steve Rogers is _dead!_"

For a moment, it didn't sink in…but then-

"I don't…I don't believe you," Bucky said, his mouth going dry as his heart dropped into his stomach and a pool of liquid _fear_ began to boil at the base of his spine.

"No?" Schmidt hissed. "Then perhaps you will believe your own eyes."

At that, Schmidt issued a command in German. Then Alrik entered the cell carrying a laptop, along with Dreykoff and another man whom Bucky assumed had been exposed to the serum, due to the coloring of his skin. That wasn't what caught Bucky's attention, though. It was the fact that this third man was holding Steve's shield.

"No," Bucky whispered in shock. Steve would have never let that thing go…but then he shook his head. "That…that doesn't prove anything."

Schmidt then nodded at Alrik, who opened up the laptop and entered a few commands. Then he turned it to face Bucky. The computer was playing a clip from a BBC news broadcast. The clip had no sound, but the headline over it read "BATTLE IN BERLIN. CAPTAIN AMERICA DEAD?".

The clip showed a battle on a highway. The footage was amateur, but Bucky could see Steve being thrown across the road by the man who now held his shield. Then, when he tried to stand, he whipped out a gun and shot Steve through the chest. Just as Steve fell, the clip cut to a reporter.

Shaking his head, Bucky stumbled back several feet, until he hit the cell wall.

"No…no…" he whispered over and over again. "You…you're not…you can't…oh, _God_…"

_Steve…you're really…no! This can't be real! You weren't supposed to die before me, damn it!_

If Steve were really dead, he would _know,_ wouldn't he? He would _know_ if the better part of his soul was gone. But then he remembered…waking up…his heart…could it be?

_No…no! He __**can't**__ be gone!_ _He __**can't**__ be dead!_

Lost in his own shock and grief as he was, Bucky barely heard what was going on around him.

"And of course, you didn't have the sense to kill the others while you were at it," Dreykoff berated his student. "They're in the area now."

"Oh, your Crossbones couldn't have killed Dr. Banner, even if he'd wanted to," the Skull chastised them. "He would have done better to kill the archer."

"No, Brock knows we need Clint Barton alive," Dreykoff insisted.

"Alive? What are you planning to do with Barton?" Natasha broke in on their argument.

"All in good time, dear Natasha."

"If Rogers is dead…you should let Barnes go," she tried to argue. "He's of no further use to you."

"You'd be surprised, Agent Romanoff," Schmidt said, shaking his head, his anger still present on his face. "I will not let go of what I hold so easily. James will suffer enough for the _both_ of them. I am _far_ from done with him."

"In the meantime, though. We haven't got a lot of time to waste," Dreykoff started. "Barton is in the area. We cannot wait another week, as we'd hoped. The C-section will be performed today."

Natasha took a few steps back herself, her hand automatically moving to the swell of her stomach."

"No…you _can't_…she'll _die_."

"We will keep her alive," Dreykoff said firmly, and at his nod, Crossbones and Alrik moved forward, pinning her between them.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, starting to struggle, but all it took was one sharp pain in her womb to remind her that she _couldn't_ fight. Whether it be by her resistance now…or 2R's knife in a few hours…her Zasha was dead either way. The only hope for her survival…was to let this happen.

"Good girl," Dreykoff said, patting her shoulder.

"_Let her go!_" Bucky's voice suddenly snarled; they'd nearly forgotten about him, and it would have been a costly mistake.

Briefly, Dreykoff looked fearful when the former mercenary sprang at them. Their own super soldiers were busy restraining Natasha, but the very next moment, the raging beast was put down by one move from Schmidt. A tentacle snaked from his back and wrapped around Bucky's throat, slamming him back against the far wall. Bucky fought furiously against him, but it was Natasha's voice that got through to him in the end.

"Bucky…please stop," she said; her voice was quiet, but he heard her, just the same. "We can't…there's no other way."

"N-Natasha?" he whispered, the expression on his face torn between rage and sorrow.

"I understand," she started, but the way he slumped in Schmidt's grasp shut her up.

"You really don't," he whispered, his gaze dropping hopelessly to the floor.

"Barnes…Bucky…" she tried again, but couldn't find the words. What could you possibly say when someone's world was torn apart…when everything they loved was taken from them with one fatal blow?

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Bucky didn't respond. Schmidt just dropped him and he collapsed in a disjointed heap on the floor…as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. After a few moments, a small, broken sound could be heard coming from the heap that was formerly a man.

James Buchanan Barnes was _crying._

"We are not done, James," Schmidt said, kneeling down close to him. "You will _pay_ for his death…a hundred times over…and I won't _let_ you die. It won't be that easy. You will feel this loss for _years_…before I let you go."

Again, he gave no response…didn't even look up when they left. He didn't really have control over the tears that spilled down his face. He didn't know how he could even draw breath to cry. His heart was gone. All he could feel was the gaping hole where it used to be…like a black hole that just sucked everything out of him, leaving him with nothing but pain.

_Is this…what I did to you…when I fell?_

XxX

"Is it true, Boss?" Coulson's near distraught voice sounded over Fury's secure line. "Is he really dead?"

"I don't know," Fury growled, rubbing his temples in frustration. "We haven't been able to contact them. They're completely off the grid. A shot like that, though…"

"He…he might have survived," the agent said, his voice hopeful.

"You think so? What's the scene look like in Berlin?"

"Schmidt's raving. He wants to let Sergeant Barnes kill Rumlow when he comes out of shock. At this rate, I think he well may. He's completely unraveling. If the captain's still alive…he needs to make an appearance soon…or we might just lose the sergeant…maybe even…to the Winter Soldier."

"Do you really think that might happen?"

"Yes. They're not going to wait anymore to take Zasha, either. They know Barton's in the area, so the operation's going to be performed in just a few hours. Boss…we know 2R's producing fighters for whomever Loki and Schmidt are working for. I'd say now's a good time to bust them wide open," Coulson suggested.

"You're right. I'll send out Thor and Stark to see if they can rendezvous with the others…find out who we've still got with us. I can send a strike team out after them."

"And the council?"

"Well…they might send an assassin out for my head, but at this point, we've just gotta take that chance."

"Your force won't be ready in time to stop the C-section. I'll keep you informed of what's going on. If you make your hit in the middle…Natasha might lose her."

"I understand. I'll keep the line open," Fury said.

"That's risky, Boss."

"We're out of time, Coulson."

Coulson sighed as Fury headed out of the conference room.

"Damn right, we are."

"Is it true?" Thor demanded as Fury headed onto the bridge. "Is the captain really dead?"

"No way," Tony interrupted before Fury could get a word in. "No way that damn capsicle just lays down and dies, not when Barnes still needs him."

"You've all seen the footage. We don't know what's going on. Our agent says HYDRA's in chaos and he hasn't heard anything from 2R. If there's some kind of plot going on, it's all on the part of this Crossbones character. He was acting alone. What we need to do right now is get in touch with them, assess what our current fighting strength is. I have coordinates. Is that new reactor ready to go?" the director asked the billionaire.

"It's solid. Just need a place to install it."

"Well, you'll have that if you can meet up with the others."

"I shall accompany you. They will need help," Thor said.

"I'll send a team after you. There're gonna be kids in this place we need to extract."

"God, we need to just start up the Avengers' daycare center. We're gonna be swimming in kids before too long," Tony said, rolling his eyes as he headed off the bridge, Thor close behind.

"What does that mean? How does one 'swim in kids'?"

"Same way you swim in anything else. Get a pool and dump 'em in."

"But…would it not be unpleasant to swim in a pool of baby goats?"

"Stark!"

XxX

"_They'll catch you, or worse, they'll actually take you."_

"_Right. 'cuz you got **nothin'** to prove."_

"_I asked for an army and all I got was you. You…are not enough."_

"_But I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl."_

"_And those are your only two options? A lab rat and a dancing monkey?"_

"_It's been tested more than you, pal."_

"_Not exactly an improvement…"_

"_You are deluded, Captain…"_

"_But…there are limits to what even **you** can do…"_

_His whole life…his whole damn life, everything he wanted had always been just out of his reach. Even after everything should have been perfect, he hadn't been good enough…he hadn't been strong enough to protect what really mattered. And now…when it mattered the most…he still fell short. He was never enough._

_Not enough! **Not enough! NOT ENOUGH!**_

_He can see Bucky now, trying to smile, even though he's breaking. His mouth doesn't move, but he can still hear him screaming._

_His eyes…so dead…as he lies pinned…helpless…_

_**Are you really going to leave him like this?**_

_**No! How could I?!**_

_**Then why did you die? You are useless as a hero…and useless as a **_man_**…if you cannot save him. First Zola, then Loki, now Schmidt. You'd almost think you didn't **_really_** care for him…that you **_let_** these things happen.**_

_**That's not true!**_

_He sees him then as he found him all those years ago…strapped to a table in Zola's lab…already more than half dead._

"_You should have let me die," he whispers, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. "I **wanted** to die."_

"_Are you really that selfish, Captain?" Loki's voice hisses in his ear. Then a different torture chamber paints itself over the old HYDRA one…a frozen, dark place far from any stars he's ever known._

"_I **took** what I wanted…and you couldn't stop me from taking it."_

"_You've never really been able to stop any of us," Schmidt's voice takes Loki's place…and he can see the half-memory, half-nightmare of Bucky pinned beneath him._

"_You never **could** defeat me."_

_He reaches forward, fingers wrapping around his old enemy's throat._

"_I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll kill you," he repeats over and over again, like a prayer…and as the Skull chokes to death in his hands, his face slowly changes…until he's strangling **Bucky** and not Schmidt._

"_Steve…Steve, please-"_

_Horrified, he drops him in a heap…but then that heap begins to laugh and Bucky slowly gets to his feet. Only he isn't Bucky anymore; he's the Winter Soldier…and a hideous mix of voices issue from his mouth as he speaks…Zola…Loki…Schmidt…_

"_**Bucky belongs to us.**"_

"_No," he whispers, crashing to his knees. Desperate, he holds out the ring. "Bucky, it's me. It's Steve. Don't you recognize me?!"_

_It's hopeless. The Soldier doesn't even see him. Laughing, he pulls out a gun and shoots him through the heart._

Steve let out a muffled cry in his sleep. Whenever he started to thrash, either Clint or Bruce would put a hand over his mouth, not wanting to risk the delirious super soldier being overheard.

When Clint had returned from tracking the agents, the Hulk had pulled Steve away from the site of the battle. They were hiding not far from the highway. At first, Steve had barely been breathing, but he was somehow still alive. When it seemed that he might pull through, Clint had run the risk of digging the three bullets out of his chest. They didn't have the equipment to analyze what the rounds had been packed with, but being that it had been several hours and both the bullet and retrieval wounds had healed, but the super soldier was still unconscious and battling fever and delirium, his two comrades were both certain his condition had something to do with whatever had been in those bullets.

"Y'know…we're gonna have to do something if he's not awake by morning," Bruce commented, using the tattered remnants of his shirt to wipe the sweat from Steve's face.

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to retrieve that imager in a few hours. If he's not awake by then, I'll head into the city. I might be able to get in touch with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"And Steve?"

"You're gonna have to keep an eye on him. If we take him with us, people are gonna start asking why we aren't taking him to a hospital…and a regular hospital wouldn't be able to help him anyway."

"Might do you some good," Bruce noted. Clint had been hit by no less than three of the red agent's flechette projectiles. Unlike the captain, though, his wounds weren't just going to heal up overnight, so he left the flechettes in his body and tore pieces from Steve's jacket to serve as makeshift bandages. He could take care of the injuries properly once Natasha and the baby were safe.

"Trust me, Banner, I've had worse. I'm good so long as I can still notch an arrow."

"Well, I hope you can notch quite a few of them. You'll be needing them if these 2R guys have even more like those two."

"No, shit," Clint muttered, glancing down at the battered bullets he'd dug from Steve's body and wondering what could possibly be strong enough to send Captain America into delirium. Just what else had the Red Room been cooking up in the years since their supposed demise?

_Damn it, Cap, you gotta pull through. We __**need**__ you on this one._

XxX

He had tried. He had tried so hard to reach him. Bucky had stretched his magic to its absolute limit trying to touch Steve's mind…desperately trying to touch him again…but all he could feel was static. He might have kept trying…except that there were only so many times he could handle being shocked by the ICD…although, he would admit it was a pain he almost preferred to the nearly unendurable ache where his heart had once been. Disparate parts of his mind told him that he couldn't keep testing the ICD…that he had to stay alive…but those parts were fast losing ground against the all-consuming black hole in his chest.

_Have to…have to…keep fighting…for…_

_For **what?** Why do you have to keep fighting? What do you have to live for? There's no **reason** left. _

_Steve's dead…he's dead…dead…he's **dead**…**Why?!**_

_You **can't** be dead! You can't just leave me like this! You promised me…we were going to be together…always…and you **always** keep your promises._

_How can you be dead…while I'm still here? I shouldn't be here. I should be with **you.** Steve…where are you? Where did you go? I can't…see you…can't feel you. Where did you go that I can't find you…can't follow…? Tell me where to go. I'll follow you anywhere._

_Anywhere…_

"You know…I'm almost beginning to miss the old sergeant…the one who struggled," Schmidt's voice suddenly broke through the despairing, miserable voices in his own head, and Bucky came awake to find himself in their old enemy's bed once again…and Schmidt no longer required chains to restrain him.

He didn't really remember being brought here…nor did he remember his clothes being removed, but they seemed to be gone. Even like this, trapped in this most precarious of positions, violated in more ways than could be counted…all Bucky could focus on were Schmidt's bare fingers.

"Where's…my ring?" he whispered, his throat dry.

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I lost it…fell down the drain, perhaps."

Gone…gone…just like Steve. It was all disappearing…and _he_ was disappearing right along with it…and yet, somehow, he still lived.

"Why don't you just kill me?!" he screamed at the Skull, briefly struggling against his hold on him.

"Ah, there he is. It's not that easy…to be with him again. Do you really think you'd be reunited? Surely your angel is bound for Heaven. Where do you think _you'll_ be going, little one?"

He knew that. Of course he knew that…but even _that_ was surely better than to go on living like this…to be alive when he _wasn't_.

"It's because of you that he's dead," Bucky growled, but Schmidt only chuckled as he thrust into him a little harder.

"He is dead…because he tried to save _you_…but I am not the one who killed him, James."

This gave Bucky pause as a memory drifted through his head…the man with the white marks on his face…holding up Steve's shield like a trophy.

"Crossbones," he hissed, his vision going red as his eyes went dark.

"Yes. I'll tell you what, little soldier. I'll make a deal with you. If you can kill Crossbones for me…I'll kill you. I must make it slow, of course, but I _will_ kill you…just like you want."

"K-kill him…?" Bucky mumbled, his thoughts a seething, tangled mass of pain, anger, and confusion. Kill the man who had killed Steve? Nothing would be easier.

"Just so. Then you will have what you want…_exactly_ what you want," Schmidt soothed, running strangely gentle hands up and down his sides…along his thighs.

Bucky's mind reeled; coherency had long since left him. All he could seem to see was an image of himself holding a gun to Rumlow's head…and the sweet satisfaction of _blowing his brains out_. Slowly, he nodded, his soft eyes hardening into something both frozen and boiling…something that would haunt the dreams of the most hardened killer.

Though Bucky wasn't quite conscious of it, Schmidt sneered triumphantly as he forced Bucky all the way down on the bed, bringing him to completion with a small, cold laugh. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth.

"Mine," he whispered harshly against his skin. "The Winter Soldier is _mine_."

XxX

Preparation for the surgery was a whirlwind of activity right up until the moment Natasha was actually on the table, and even then, it never quite seemed to settle. She wasn't properly numbed, so the pain kept her senses sharp. She insisted on watching every minute, not even turning away as they cut into her…down through the layers of her…until they reached her womb.

Zasha didn't cry out when they cut her free. She was fully formed and her blood-soaked skin was flushed with life, but she was very small, little more than fifteen inches, and she couldn't have weighed more than two pounds. She barely moved…was barely alive…and yet she was the most perfect thing Natasha Romanoff had ever seen…and something inside of her started to break when the surgeon carried her to Dreykoff, who stood off to the side observing. She would be damned if she allowed that _monster_ to be the first to hold her daughter.

Freed of the burden of worrying for Zasha's safety, the Black Widow took that moment to remind them all who she was. Though she was still open, still bleeding, she seized one of the surgical knives from the tray beside her and leapt to her feet, bringing the blade to the surgeon's back.

"Let me hold her," she demanded, her voice hoarse as her body trembled with pain and exhaustion. "Let me hold her…just once."

Dreykoff sneered as he watched his creation struggle to stand, barely managing to keep her hold on the weapon. Finally, he nodded.

"Do as she says," he ordered the surgeon. Slowly, the man turned and Natasha dropped the blade, holding out her arms for her baby.

"We _do_ need to get her into an intensive care unit," the man said.

"I know," Natasha said, arms trembling as she brought Zasha in close to rest against her breast. "Just a moment…a moment…"

As she looked down at the baby, the Black Widow felt that she trembled with more than just exhaustion. Zasha opened her tiny mouth wide in a yawn and wriggled faintly. Natasha couldn't help the tiny gasp that escaped her lips.

_My little girl…my little girl…_

Clint's daughter…their baby…she knew she would never be able to have enough of just looking at her. Except there wasn't time now. Zasha needed care…and she was standing here bleeding out. Leaning down, she pressed a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead.

"I'll get you back," she whispered. "I promise I will get you back." Then she held her baby out for the surgeon. "Take her."

The surgeon quickly whisked Zasha out of the room and Natasha remained on her feet for several more minutes, defiantly staring down her creator, who only smiled at her in return.

"Now that's out of the way, moya krasavitsa, I'd say the real fun can begin."

XxX

(A/N) One little translation note…as I understand it, moya krasavitsa is 'my beauty' in Russian.

Also, just because I'm curious…of the extended cast, any idea which characters are Marvel's and which characters are mine?


	13. Do We Part

(A/N) Sorry for the delay everyone, but it has in fact been a busy holiday. So no, mudkipz, I didn't find it at all strange to comment for that reason; you were also correct in thinking Wolverine has a Japanese son, but Makoto is actually one of my own characters.

**Anon:** Pretty good calls on the extended cast. Alexei is theirs and Belle is mine. And Crossbones was one I was already familiar with before the announcement. Also, I'm quite impressed with your deductions regarding Loki's kids. You are the first person to call me on that and you just about had it figured out. But you will see what's really going on this chapter.

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 13: Do We Part?_

By the time Clint had returned from retrieving his imager, Steve still hadn't come around. His fever dreams didn't seem to be as violent, but he still wasn't awake.

"Guess there's nothin' for it," the archer said. "We need the intel on this thing. I should be back before dark."

"Uh…I wouldn't jump the gun just yet," Bruce said, his eyes fixed on the sky.

"What are you talk-" Clint's question trailed off as he joined Bruce in looking to the dawn-colored sky, finding that two fast-moving objects were careening right in their direction. These two objects resolved themselves into Thor and Iron Man only moments before smashing to the ground.

"Miss us, fellas?" Tony asked, glancing around at all of them. Then he got a look at the downed Cap and did a quick scan. "Still kickin' after all. So they were wrong."

"Wrong?" Bruce asked.

"Somebody caught your battle on film. It's been all over the news. They've been saying Captain America's dead."

"Well, near enough," Clint said, producing the bullets he'd pulled from Steve's body. "We're not really sure how, but the shots didn't kill him, and they should have…even him. We don't know _what's_ going on."

"Well, we don't have another seventy years to waste on him sleeping. We've got coordinates for where we need to be. The only thing Fury's mole couldn't get us was a schematic of the place."

"Hmm, aren't you in luck, then," Clint said, twirling the imager between his fingers. "I've got just that right here. Hook it into your helmet and we'll see what we're dealing with."

"And here it's not even my birthday," Tony said, taking the offered imager. "By the way, congratulations, Robin Hood, you're a daddy."

"What?" Clint asked, feeling very distinctly that he'd been sucker punched in the gut.

"2R did a C-section last night…when they heard you were nearby. They're both fine; Zasha's healthy. They've just got her in intensive care."

"God," Clint growled, briefly burying his face in his hands. "Those…_bastards_."

"Don't worry too much on it," Tony said as he perused the imager's data inside his helmet. "We can probably bust these guys wide open with these schematics."

Clint was about to say something else when they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of Steve shouting. Only he wasn't dreaming this time. He sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.

"Who are you?" he demanded, glaring suspiciously at all of them.

"Cap…it's us. Y'know…your teammates…the Avengers?" Clint said.

"What the Hell are you _talking_ about? Where's Bucky? Where are my men?"

"Oh, Hell," Bruce muttered. "He's back in the war."

"Tell me what's going on!" he shouted, leaping to his feet. Then he reached behind him, confused when he didn't find what he was looking for. "Where…where's my shield?"

Rather than wait for him to cause further harm to himself or to them, Thor decided to step in, tackling him to the ground.

"Let me go!" Steve snarled, struggling futilely against the Asgardian. "What did you do to them?!"

"Your mind is far afield, Captain Rogers. We are _not_ your enemies. _We_ are your men now. Your war is long done."

"What are you talking about?"

"Steve," Clint started, kneeling beside the two. "It's Clint. Clint Barton. You were shot. We've been on the run for the past few weeks because HYDRA stole something very important to us."

"H-HYDRA?" Steve stammered, his eyes bulging slightly as he struggled for coherency.

"Barnes is dying, Cap," Tony said as he joined them.

"No…no…that's not true. Bucky's not dying. He _can't_ be dying!" Steve argued, briefly sinking back into the delusion and fighting back against Thor's hold on him.

"It's true. You were holding him when his heart stopped," Clint reminded him.

"No…" Steve hissed, closing his eyes, shaking his head. "It's not true. It's _not!_"

"It _is_," Tony repeated harshly. "Come on, Capsicle, you gotta remember. I made him an arc reactor. It'll be here soon. We just need to get him away from Schmidt."

"Bucky…" Steve whispered, briefly reaching a hand up past Thor, toward something only he could see. That was when he glimpsed the ring on his finger…the engagement ring…_Bucky's_ ring…the ring Crossbones had jammed onto his finger before shooting him…and just like that, he remembered. Shaking slightly, he let the arm fall down, coming to rest over his eyes. "Thor…you can let me up now. It's okay."

Thor slowly stood up. "You are certain you are lucid?"

Steve nodded, looking at each of them in turn. "You're Thor, You're Tony, you're Clint, and you're Bruce," he said. He remembered, but a small part of him wished he didn't.

"What was that?" Bruce asked as Thor helped him to his feet.

"I…I don't know," Steve said, vigorously rubbing his arms, only to find that the left one was still tender from where Crossbones had broken it.

"We're pretty sure whatever happened to you had something to do with these," Clint said, offering him the three banged up bullets. "Mean anything to you?"

Steve studied the spent ammunition for several minutes, not discovering anything particularly significant about it…until he took a whiff of the bullets to try to determine what sort of explosive they'd been packed with. He received a sharp, chemical sting in his nostrils; it was a scent he wasn't likely to forget anytime soon.

"It's the serum," he said. "That's what was in these."

"Seriously?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow. "What would that do?"

"Well…you saw just now, didn't you? The nightmares…the hallucinations…" he said, shuddering, "when the serum isn't administered properly, it can induce madness…delusion. Plus, there's the fact that I've already been infused, so who's to say _what_ kind of effect that might have had? Could be it just served as a fast-acting healing agent."

"Which leaves the question of why did they shoot you in the first place if they didn't mean for you to die?" Tony put forward.

Steve shook his head. "There's no time to worry about this. What have we got waiting for us?"

"Fury's agent said eight of their people have been infused. The five Skull's Own and the three oldest 2R initiates; you fought two of them yesterday: Crossbones and Red Guardian," Tony said.

"Red _Guardian?_" Clint repeated. "Where do they get off using a name like that?"

"Well, it _did_ kinda look like he was stopping Crossbones from going on a rampage, so that's what the media's calling the kid. Looks to be sticking, unfortunately."

"What about the third initiate? Where was he yesterday?" Steve asked.

"She…and all Fury would tell us was that she "reacted badly" to the serum. They're keeping her under observation."

"What reaction could be so bad neither group would want to use it?" Steve wondered. Was it somehow _worse_ than what had manifested with the Skull? He wasn't sure he could conceive of such a thing. What had these monsters _done_ to this poor girl?

"No idea. Either way, it looks like that one's out of commission for the time being, so one less super soldier to worry about. They're really the only ones _to_ worry about, after all. Otherwise, both factions only have a handful of goons working for them. 2R's got a few trainers and doctors, but only a few of those are any real fighters."

"Sounds like this agent did his work well," Steve complimented.

"Excellent well," Thor said. "So what is our plan of attack?"

"Tony…I take it you've got any access codes we might need?" Steve asked, to which Tony tapped his helmet.

"Got it all right up here."

"Good. You and Thor'll be our first wave. They'll probably roll out the goon squad before they send in the heavy artillery, so you take down as many of them as you can. Clint, Bruce, and I will take second wave…and Bruce? You'll only be third wave if we need it."

"'If', he says," Bruce said, sighing and shaking his head.

Steve felt bad, not being able to join the first wave. It felt like something he _should_ do, rather than ask others to do. But he also conceded it would be just downright stupid of him to run headlong into a hail of bullets without his shield. Just because he'd gotten lucky once, didn't mean he was going to be so again.

"And when they _do_ send in the heavy artillery?" Clint asked.

"When you get the chance, I want you to break off and look for Natasha, Bucky, and Zasha. We'll handle the others. This plan amenable to everyone?" Steve asked, looking around at all of them as he pulled his cowl back on.

"Let's take 'em down," Clint said, his smirk going slightly feral as he stood, snapping his bow into a ready position.

XxX

Following the C-section, Natasha hadn't been expecting to be allowed to rest, and she was not disappointed. Not long after she'd been stitched up, she was hustled off to another room…the infusion chamber, she heard the guards calling it. There, she was muscled into a chair beside Dreykoff…like a prize…a possession.

"One of my girls has a _request_ for me," he explained, smirking sideways at her as he surveyed the two lines of children.

Crossbones and Alexei headed the boys' line, followed by Makoto, then two younger boys: one a redhead with freckles and the youngest, a boy with Middle Eastern features. He couldn't have been much older than Eve.

Only three stood in the girls' line. Belle was absent. The line was headed instead by a girl with black skin and short black hair. She was barely a teenager, but the look in her eyes was a match for Crossbones in cruelty and ferocity. This girl was followed by one Natasha thought she recognized…and as she looked at her, she realized why. It was the little girl from Calcutta…the one she'd paid to lure Bruce to her two years ago.

"You remember her," Dreykoff said when he caught her staring. "We kept an eye on that one after you came into contact with her and she proved to be quite an extraordinary little one. We decided to make better use of her."

"Shanta," Natasha said quietly, remembering her name as a wave of guilt turned her stomach into knots. They'd found this girl because of her. How many children had they scouted over the years…just for coming into contact with her?

Eve was the last, the youngest…except for Zasha.

_No!_ She scolded herself sharply. _You can't think about it like that. She's __**not**__ one of them…and she never __**will**__ be._

"Arrow isn't her real name," Dreykoff started to speak again, drawing Natasha's attention back to the first girl. "It's what she was calling herself…when we pulled her out of the Congo."

_Oh, God…_

Natasha actually shuddered as she looked the girl over a second time. If this Arrow was a survivor of the conflict in the Congo…then she could only _imagine_ the horror that lay behind the cruelty in those eyes.

"So, my Arrow," Dreykoff said to the room at large, "I understand you've a request you want to make of me."

"Yes," the girl began, her military stance relaxing slightly. "I heard you stopped the serum at Belle. Why?"

"Because I don't believe Makoto is ready…and Belle did not…react well to her infusion."

"So I am denied the opportunity to have this power because the others are too _weak?_" Arrow snarled.

"What are you suggesting, exactly?" the Russian asked with a knowing sneer.

"Suggest? No. I'm suggesting nothing. I'm outright _telling_ you I'm stronger than those two. I should get a chance!"

"Are you certain? It isn't about being _physically_ stronger than your brother and sister. Do you know what _did_ happen to Belle?"

Arrow shook her head, eyeing her creator warily. Dreykoff then turned toward a guard who stood at attention at one of the side doors. The guard opened the door to reveal a young woman lying on a gurney with two doctors examining her, which was difficult, considering her thrashing. The physical changes to the redhead's body made it clear no ordinary restraints would hold her. She rolled around on the gurney, clutching at her head and screaming. Words occasionally came through the hysterics, but the poor girl was mostly incoherent. Once Dreykoff thought they'd seen enough, he nodded at the guard, who quickly shut the door.

"What _was_ that?" Natasha demanded, slightly horrified.

"Belle is very intuitive; she possesses a great deal more empathy than I'd like. With the serum enhancements…we aren't certain, it's difficult to tell with the screaming…but it may have manifested as a kind of telepathy."

"Telepathy?" Natasha repeated incredulously.

"Yes…only she has no control over it. Can you imagine what it might be like…to have every mind in your reach…_bleeding_ into yours with no way to stop it?"

Natasha shuddered. She couldn't imagine it and she didn't want to.

"Are you ready for that, Arrow? That something like _that_ might happen to you? What's in that pretty little head that might get out?"

"Have I somehow given you the impression I have even an _ounce_ of empathy in me? Where did I go wrong?" she asked without even a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

"Not really. I just wanted to see what you'd do…and you are a true credit to my instruction. You never hesitate to seize what you want and you show no fear."

"Show?" Arrow asked, raising an eyebrow. "There is no fear _to_ show."

"Yes, yes, of course. No fear in a creature of night. You will have your wish. Only…I imagine if you are to be infused, I suppose it's only fair that Makoto receive the treatment, as well."

"Are…are you certain, Sir?" Makoto asked, his spine stiffening.

"I am…unless you would rather I test it out on one of the little ones instead?"

"_No!_" he shouted before he could catch his slip. For a tiny moment, he looked frightened. Dreykoff sneered knowingly at the boy.

"I thought so. Don't think you can hide these things from me, my boy. Do you know your name?"

"Dreykoff's son," he answered without thought or protest.

"Exactly, and you will do well to remember that. These little pretenses are going to _stop_. Every minute of contact between yourself and Eve will be punished. Only that punishment will be bourn out by Eve herself…twofold. She will be punished for the both of you."

Makoto lowered his head, his shoulders slumping. Natasha could easily imagine the despair and guilt he was feeling. And she'd thought the Red Room was bad during _her_ day. She and her brothers and sisters had been deadly, certainly, but Schmidt was turning 2R into monsters.

XxX

Following his promise to kill Crossbones, Schmidt had granted Bucky a limited amount of mobility. He was being allowed to move around outside of the cellblock, but he wasn't allowed a weapon or to be told more about the layout of the compound. As he wandered around, vaguely noting the layout of the areas he was unfamiliar with, he somehow found himself in 2R's infirmary. Somehow or other, his feet had led him here.

The infirmary had only one patient…Clint and Natasha's baby girl…Zasha. She was such a little bit of a thing…hardly there in the glass-protected environment she was enclosed in.

"Hey, li'l bit," he murmured, pressing a hand against the glass. "Don't you worry. You and your momma are gonna get out of here. I'll make sure of it. You guys still have a chance to be a family."

_Unlike us…_

"He would have been…such a good father," he choked out, not really sure who he was trying to justify that to, or why he was even thinking about it now. It was too late…_far_ too late…

…but…maybe they _could_ have? After they'd been married…perhaps they could have adopted…taken in a lonely, loveless child…just like they'd been? Hell…maybe they could have even taken in one of these 2R kids? They were all going to need families. Only none of that would ever happen now. He and Steve were never going to get married; he would never be able to look to him, beam at his shy smile and say, 'I do.' Their future was over before it had even begun…and that had been the undeniable truth from the moment they'd met each other. In their own time, society would never have let them be together, and now…now HYDRA and 2R had taken Steve away…_stolen_ him…and they had done it using Bucky himself. He would never be able to live with it.

"It's over," he hissed, feeling tears begin to leak from his eyes again. "It's _all over_."

Somehow, though, with little Zasha there, he couldn't seem to hold on to his anger…and was left only with his grief. Looking down at the fragile, helpless baby, Bucky couldn't help but remember Steve…back before the serum…back when he, too, had been fragile…and all he wanted to do was hold him again, kiss him…sing to him, like he had when his friend was feeling frightened or lonely. That simple act had always been able to soothe the aching in his own chest, even if only a little bit. So he chose the last song he'd sung to him before his 'death' seventy years ago…the song that was tied to all of the love and heartache he had vested in Steve Rogers…the last song there would ever be.

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I long to hear you,_

_Away you rolling river,_

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I long to see you,_

_Away, I'm bound away_

_'Cross the wide Missouri._

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I love your daughter,_

_Away you rolling river,_

_For her I'd cross_

_Your rollin' water,_

_Away, I'm bound away_

_'Cross the wide Missouri._

It didn't help. Not even a little bit did it help. In fact, it only made the pain worse. Bucky found his vision blurred with tears, obscuring Zasha from view as he sank to his knees beside the intensive care unit. He had _no_ idea why, but he kept going. Perhaps…if this was the last song he was ever going to sing…he should finish it?

_'Tis seven years,_

_I've been a rover,_

_Away you rolling river,_

_When I return,_

_I'll be your lover,_

_Away, I'm bound away_

_'Cross the wide Missouri._

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I'm bound to leave you._

_Away you rolling river,_

_Oh Shenandoah,_

_I'll not deceive you._

_Away, I'm bound away_

_'Cross the wide Missouri._

Bucky would be the first to tell you that the experience of feeling your heart break was no exaggeration, as so many liked to think. He had dealt with it from the tender age of seventeen, and it wasn't just a metaphor. No…it was _physically_ painful…felt like your heart was being squeezed by an uncaring hand, the fingers gradually digging into the defenseless flesh…like your breath was constantly being stopped in your throat and you couldn't _remember_ how to draw the next one…and somehow you didn't die from this; you kept on living…even though you should have died a long time ago, heart crushed and no air in your lungs.

This was worse.

This heartbreak…came after knowing his feelings of love were _returned_…all the pain he had suffered before _meant_ something…and he had been _so close_ to having that…forever.

_Steve…you loved me. You really __**loved**__ me. I wished for your love my whole damn life…and now you're __**dead!**_

Why, why, _why_ was he still alive? He didn't even understand how this black hole in his chest wasn't killing everyone around him.

_Because you cannot die yet._

Briefly, the mercenary found himself gripped by a vision…a vision of two children…a girl with brown curls and deep green eyes and a boy with blue-grey eyes and blonde hair…

_Someone still has need of you, James Buchanan Barnes._

_Father?_

Then, as he stared into their eyes, the world shifted, and the last missing piece fell into place. It had never been just children he'd been dreaming about; it had always been these two, the same two children…and Loki was their mother. The boy, Fenrir, had almost died at birth, but Loki had called to him for help because…because he was their _father_.

It didn't surprise him, really, this realization…not after seeing some of the things Loki could do. Was this…the thing Loki needed he claimed to have gotten from him? No…it couldn't be. Whatever it was, he had taken it from Steve, too. But…there was still something he wasn't seeing, then. The connection between Steve and Fenrir…because he hadn't helped Loki because he'd asked for it. He'd done it because…he distinctly remembered _knowing_ that Steve was in danger, even though his eyes told him otherwise. What was the connection? _Steve_ couldn't be Fenrir's father, could he? It was impossible. He knew for a _fact_ Loki had never slept with Steve…

…but _he_ had. Barely an hour before Loki had forced him to put on his sick display, he and Steve had been together…and Steve had come inside of him. Was it somehow possible…that Loki had drawn that seed from his body when they'd fucked…and conceived twins, one fathered by him…the other by Steve?

That was it. That was the answer…the thing Loki needed that he'd taken from both of them…the reason why he'd been so _certain_ Steve was in danger that day. Fenrir was his _son_.

They had _children_. Somewhere out there…he and Steve…they had _kids_…a son and a daughter…and they were in _Loki's_ hands.

_Steve's son…_

The rational part of his mind was certain it must be a delusion…that he was just sinking even further into grief and despair…so far that he'd built himself this ridiculous fantasy…that some part of Steve still existed somewhere in the universe…but Bucky wasn't really _being_ rational at the moment. He was trapped somewhere between Bucky's grief, the Winter Soldier's rage…and the budding love of Hel and Fenrir's father. Psychologically, it was an unimaginably tenuous place to be. The slightest ripple could destroy the balance, but he clung to it, just the same. The idea lit a fire in him, somehow held his dwindling sanity in a vice. He couldn't die yet. The need to protect Steve was burned too deeply into his soul…even if it was only a fragment of him that remained. Their children…Steve's son…somehow he had to find them, no matter how long it took. But in order to find them, he would have to escape from here, and in order to do that, he would need to kill all of them, not just Crossbones…

…and in order to do that…he would need the Winter Soldier.

XxX

Phil Coulson hung anxiously on the line with Fury for several hours waiting for news. Was Captain America really dead?

When the word came through from the director, the long-suffering agent was overjoyed.

"Coulson, they got through. Looks like the captain's still with us. They'll be mounting an assault on the compound within the hour. Make sure you're ready."

"My pleasure, Director."

"And you'll have to inform Barnes of what's going on…if you really think he's at risk."

"Yes, Sir. Already on my way." Indeed, he'd been on the move the moment Fury had told him Steve was still alive. He couldn't wait to tell Bucky the good news. It had been absolutely horrible to see his grief this last day.

He could never be certain _why_ it happened. Perhaps it was just that he was so happy himself and the end of this assignment was finally in sight. Whatever the reasons, he didn't take his usual precautions about not being seen by a certain former Nazi…and when he'd just about reached the cellblock, who should he run into but Schmidt.

There was no getting out of it, he knew. The moment he caught even that tiny glimpse of his face, Schmidt knew everything.

She didn't mean to. Of _course_ she didn't mean to, but she couldn't help it. He was her best friend…and for two years, she'd thought he was dead.

_Phil?_

"Hey, Sin," he said softly, not even trying to run. Schmidt just sneered.

"It seems my granddaughter knows you. Yes…the Captain America to her Red Skull. How have you avoided my sight this long?"

"Well, y'know, chief. Fly on the wall." He might be able to take Schmidt one on one, but now wasn't the time. The overall situation was not in his favor. He would just have to bide his time.

"Well," the Red Skull began, seizing him and pulling out a gun. "I think Grigori would like to know he's been harboring a spy all this time. Shall we go see him?"

"It doesn't matter. Your organization's about to come crashing to its knees. There's something you don't know."

"What? That Steve Rogers is still alive? This I know, Agent Coulson," Schmidt said as they walked. He looked rather pleased with himself.

Coulson stiffened slightly. "How do you know that?"

"Because it was never my intention that he die. I simply needed James Barnes to believe he was dead…to experience the agony of his loss…and my goals have been accomplished. The Winter Soldier is awake again."

"I don't know what you think you can accomplish with this," Coulson said, barely concealing how nervous he really was. "All it's gonna take is one look at Rogers to put him right back to sleep."

"Perhaps…or perhaps it will only drive him _more_ insane…to have experienced the loss, only to realize that pain was all for nothing. It _does things_ to a man's head."

Coulson hated to admit it, but he was half-terrified that Schmidt might be right. Bucky's mental state was precarious as it was. What might it take…to push him beyond a point where even Steve could save him?

XxX

When Schmidt came strolling into the infusion chamber with his prisoner, Makoto was already strapped into the device. Schmidt had been on his way here when he'd run into Coulson.

"You should screen your minions more carefully, Grigori," Schmidt announced, shoving Coulson to the floor. "It seems you have a double agent in your midst."

"How _dare_ you accuse Ianto of treachery, Schmidt? He has been loyal to this organization for-"

"Two years? Exactly. Check S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records and you will find that two years ago, one Agent Philip Coulson was listed among the casualties in the battle for the Helicarrier."

"How could you know this?"

"Because Sinthea recognized him. She knew him the moment I set eyes on him."

"Ianto?" Dreykoff started, turning his attention down to the agent as he got to his knees. "Is it true?"

Coulson smirked as he met Dreykoff's gaze. "'fraid so, boss. Guess we haven't been properly introduced. Phil Coulson, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Dreykoff's face went red with rage for a moment, but then he slowly backed away from his former agent, trying to rein in the anger.

"It doesn't matter. I know your precious Avengers will be here soon. They will be no match for our own personal army of super soldiers. You will watch your saviors die, then I will kill you myself…_slowly_."

"You can't stop them," Coulson said, his face bright with certainty. "No one like you ever can."

Dreykoff chuckled. "No one like _me?_ And what exactly am I like, Agent Coulson?"

"You're a murderer…you torture _children_ for your own gain. Nothing is sacred to you, but the Avengers…they fight for what they love. They'll take you _down_. No doubt about it."

"We will see. Schmidt, hurry up and infuse these two. We need more soldiers. I-"

Just then, a large explosion sounded overhead, shaking the room slightly. Schmidt sneered with delight.

"It seems, comrade, we have guests."

XxX


	14. To Love, Honor, and Obey

(A/N) Sorry for the delay, all. In case you haven't seen and anyone here is a "Once Upon a Time" fan, I was working on a Cap/OUaT crossover last week that's now up. 'From the Looking Glass'. I tell you, this capkink business has been downright dangerous to my health.

**Anon:** I just do a lot of research. The only comic book I've ever been brave enough to pick up was the initial Winter Soldier arc.

**Danni:** Well…I suppose I could say _this_ story is pretty near to completion, but there will be one more story in this little universe, I think.

**Mudkipz:** Never seen it? Oh, but you must. Sebastian Stan does psycho a little too well (which is why his Winter Soldier is going to be _glorious!_).

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 14: To Love, Honor, and Obey_

The first move of the strike was to take out the holographic generator that concealed the entrance to the compound, which Tony executed beautifully, announcing to their enemies that the Avengers had come to call…and they were _not_ happy.

"Stark, my agent's been exposed. You'll need to keep an eye out for him," Fury reported.

"Sure. What's our friendly neighborhood mole look like?"

"You'll know him when you see him."

"Whatever works for you, Madame Fury. Just better hope I don't accidentally waste the guy."

The group was slightly unnerved by the fact that no attempt was made to stop the elevator as they descended down through the Earth. They were all itching to go by the time they hit the bottom.

Steve, Clint, and Bruce all took cover away from the door. Tony and Thor took the lead…and were met with a hail of gunfire the moment the door slid open.

Both men were pretty bullet resistant, all things considered. Tony was a walking arsenal and Thor was…well…Thor.

Once their first wave had taken down a good number, Clint followed with a volley of his own, clearing the way for Steve and Bruce so that they could vacate the elevator for the S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team not far behind them.

"Barton, get moving," Steve ordered him during a break in the action, once they'd gained several corridors on their enemy. "The others'll be here soon. We can hold until they get here. You've gotta find them!"

Nodding, Clint took off down the nearest corridor. No sooner had he disappeared from sight, than Tony shouted them a warning.

"Fresh wave, you two. Duck and cover."

Steve managed to get some cover, but Bruce was hit in the side. Almost instantly, his voice was a growl in his throat and his muscles began to ripple as he stared at the fray up ahead.

"Oh, boy."

XxX

The S.H.I.E.L.D. team was, in fact, only a few minutes behind the Avengers. The moment they'd touched down, half the agents had fanned out to create a perimeter around the compound exits. The other half, led by Sharon Carter, prepared to follow the Avengers underground, readying their weapons as they piled into the now-exposed elevator.

Carter's team consisted of Darcy, two other agents, and four Asgardian volunteers. Sif and the Warriors Three had been on a visit when the call to arms had been sounded, and even though Thor had gone out ahead, they'd all insisted on being allowed to fight for their Midgardian friends.

"Well, this looks like it's gonna get fun real fast," Darcy said, swinging her gun carelessly through the air.

"Fun indeed," Sif agreed, smirking at her lover. "We shall dine well on the blood of our enemies."

"And then some," the young agent said, wiggling her eyebrows, which Sif returned with an even more dangerous smile.

"Agent Lewis, focus!" Sharon snapped at her comrade. "Final weapons check. It's gonna get messy when that door opens."

"Yes!" Darcy cheered, pumping a fist in the air before giving her weapon one last twirl, like a little girl with her toy magic wand. "Locked and loaded, bitches!"

"On to battle!" Volstagg cheered. The Asgardians all gave various whoops and war cries, and other two agents looked slightly ashen at their eagerness.

That was the moment the elevator door slid open.

"By the way, I'm pregnant," Darcy announced to the elevator full of people before letting out a war whoop of her own and leaving them all in the dust. For a moment, they all just stood there. Both Fandral and Sif looked very much like they'd been stabbed through the gut.

"Well," Sharon began, her face completely deadpan, "just when I think I've seen everything, Darcy Lewis goes and proves me wrong every time."

"Sif, I…I swear I didn't-"

"Grr, come on! We can play 'Days of Our Lives' later. Right now we've got some scum to flush. Let's move!" Sharon ordered, leading the rest of the charge out of the elevator.

XxX

Clint had been pretty well able to determine the location of the infirmary from the schematic Tony had laid out for them. After correlating his directions with the first 2R grunt he was able to punch out, he made his way there quickly. If Zasha was in intensive care, that was where she would be. When he arrived there to find two slain guards outside the door, he started to worry.

The worry was alleviated, though, when he actually entered the room. The intensive care unit was displayed rather prominently…and when Clint looked through the glass, he could see a tiny, helpless figure lying inside.

He approached the machine in an almost reverent fashion, hardly able to believe this tiny, precious thing could somehow have come from _him_.

"Hey, Zasha," he said quietly, resting a hand on the glass, fingers splaying across the cool surface. "You don't know me yet, but…I'm your daddy."

The archer wasn't certain how long he stood there, just looking at her, but he did eventually manage to get on the new communicator Tony had hooked him up with.

"Agent Carter, do you copy?"

"Yeah, Clint, you got me. Good to hear you again," her voice sounded in his ear.

"You guys make it in yet?"

"We're in. What's your status?"

"I found the infirmary. They…they've got Zasha here."

"We've got a medical team standing by aboard one of the quinjets. I heard she was in intensive care. Can the unit she's in be moved safely or is it stationary?"

"Looks to be mobile," he said, looking the unit over. "Probably had it designed in case they needed to leave in a hurry."

"Good. Hold your position. I'll send them down to you so we can get her out."

"Hurry, Sharon," he said softly. "I still haven't found Natasha or Barnes." If Natasha had just been cut open, she _should_ be in the infirmary, but he supposed he shouldn't put it past Dreykoff to devise some new punishment for his 'creation'.

Just then, Clint saw something out of the corner of his eye…something he _really_ should have noticed before, given his status as a master assassin, but perhaps he could chalk it up to being distracted by his baby girl.

There were three figures in the far corner of the infirmary, three doctors. Two of them were already dead and when the third one realized he'd spotted her, was moving toward her, she began to cry.

"Don't! Oh, please don't hurt me!" she begged, horribly shaken up. Clint grabbed her hands as he knelt in front of her to keep from hurting herself.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. What happened in here? What about those guys out front?"

"It was awful!" she sobbed, quickly going limp in his grasp. "He ambushed us…when we came to check on the infant. He killed them. He killed them with his _bare hands!_" she screamed.

"Why didn't…this guy kill you?"

"Told me…to watch the girl…make sure…nothing h-happened…said it was…going…going to get ugly…" she babbled.

"Who? Who was this guy?"

"The…Skull's pet…B-Barnes…the W-Winter Soldier."

XxX

Move, scan, fire…missed…cover, fire…down. Move again, repeat until all targets are eliminated.

He wasn't keeping track of how many targets he'd taken down. It was best to just keep going until he couldn't find anyone else. Crossbones and the others might be a bit more of a challenge, but at least taking all these lackeys out would make it easier for Natasha and the baby to escape. Every time he used up a gun, he just took a fresh one off a fallen enemy.

A small part of him was horrified at how easily it came back…the numbing calm that blocked out everything else. The Winter Soldier was both deadly calm…and burning rage. Loki had hardened his anger into something beyond his control. That was what waited beyond the door marked 'Winter Soldier'. That door was unlocked now…but it wasn't all the way open.

Not yet.

Was it possible to do what needed to be done without opening the door all the way…or would he have to give himself up?

XxX

Clint's spine had been stiff with worry ever since he'd heard the doctor's words. The moment the medical team reached the infirmary, Clint took off in search of the infusion chamber, the location of which he'd retrieved from the traumatized doctor. The thought was in the back of his head that he should probably warn the others that Bucky was running around, potentially off his nut, but he wasn't sure what that would do to Steve, so he just let it be. They would find each other eventually, and Bucky wasn't stupid enough to just wander into their line. Right now, he had to focus on Natasha.

When he finally reached the chamber, he paused outside the doors for a moment, but a voice from a PA system quickly put an end to his plotting.

"Come along now, Agent Barton. We mustn't keep people waiting. My precious Widow had been _pining_ for little Zasha's father."

The taunt lit a spark of rage in the archer and he quickly thrust the doors open, striding into the room and quickly taking in what there was to be seen.

Dreykoff sat with Natasha in what greatly resembled a throne get up. A 2R instructor was standing guard over a group of four children. Save for them, the room appeared to be empty.

"You all right, Tasha?" he asked her, pointedly ignoring the man beside her.

"Been better, been worse," was her response as she smirked at him. "I'm just getting a little tired of this Hellhole." She smirked at him, yes, but there was something off about her expression, something warning.

"Welcome to our new home, little hawk. What do you think?"

"A lot bigger than the old place. Guess I'm a little impressed."

"Excellent…because this will be _your_ new home, as well."

"The Hell are you talkin' about?"

"It's a long story, Clint. Would you like to hear it? There is a great deal you and Natasha do not know."

"Not really interested. Where are Schmidt and the others?"

"They've gone off to engage your friends in battle. I imagine it will be a sight to behold, but there are more important things to deal with at the moment. Perhaps if we could just finish this quickly-"

"Your plan won't work, whatever it is. We've got a team on the inside already pulling Zasha out. She'll be safe from you."

"Oh, that hardly matters. The council is in my pocket. In a few days' time, Fury will be dead and she will be back in my possession once again. Whether or not the two of you join her is entirely up to you."

"We wouldn't join you. No way in Hell."

"You forget, Clinton, that Natasha _was_ mine…not so long ago as all that. She will _always_ be mine…because there is no denying who she is."

"She made a choice to leave you."

"Yes…because she doesn't know the truth…the truth S.H.I.E.L.D. has kept from her…from _you_."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't kept anything from us," he lied. He knew who he worked for, but that was _not_ a conversation he was willing to have with _this_ man.

"Really? Not even the fact that this man was alive?"

At Dreykoff's words, a door leading into an alcove opened and two guards marched out, a man held between them at gunpoint…a man, Clint was shocked to discover, he _knew_.

"Phil?"

Coulson offered him a pained smile. "Hi, Barton."

"Mm, failed to mention that little turn up, didn't they," the Russian preened. "What else have they _not told you?_ Your parents' true identities, perhaps? The _reason_ their records list you as being dead? What they have done to you is no different from what I did to Natasha. I will tell you the truth…both of you…and you will walk away from them."

"Walk away from them and do what, exactly?" Clint asked, still trying to keep up an unyielding exterior, even though he was struggling with feelings of shock.

"Join me at my side, of course…exactly as you were meant to."

"Don't listen to him," Natasha hissed. "He'll get inside your head. He'll say anything."

"Be silent…_my dear_," Dreykoff hissed in return, seizing his creation by her hair and yanking her head back, exposing her neck to the blade that was suddenly in his hand. Clint tensed briefly, but he didn't cry out.

"Tell me again…why it is that you left me, my little one?"

"Because Clint told me the truth…that _you_ started the fire that killed my mother. You intentionally orphaned me so you could appear to _save_ me…put me in your debt forever…but then he showed me what I was…what _you_ had turned me into."

"Yes…that is what I do. I leave no trace behind…but there is _so_ much more to your story than that. Your mother was not just a loose end, as so many are. Beautiful Tanya Romanova. Did your S.H.I.E.L.D. never tell you that _she_ was the very first Red Room agent?"

Natasha's eyes snapped up to him and she shook her head as much as she was able with a knife pressed against her neck. "That's…impossible. If that were true…she couldn't have had me."

"And yet your own baby girl is up in my infirmary right now. Yes, when Tanya became pregnant, I _knew_ you would be special…to thrive in her ravaged womb as you did. That and…being descended from your mother _and_ your father."

"You know…who my father was?" Natasha whispered, unable to keep the hint of curiosity out of her voice.

"Of course, I do, little one. Did you ever even think to ask me? Did you really think I had nothing more to give you when you consigned me to the fire all those years ago?"

"Natasha, you can't listen to him. You _know_ that," Coulson warned her.

"Then it doesn't matter what he says, does it," she said calmly, not taking her eyes off her creator.

"Dear Natasha, who else could be your father…but _me?_"

She had been wrong. It mattered. It mattered too much…because he wouldn't tell her that unless it was true. One look at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s DNA profile could disprove him.

"Yes, my child," he said, running the flat of the blade along her neck as he watched the different emotions chase each other across her face. Then he slowly let her sit up. "My creation…my greatest one…in every possible sense of the word."

_Dreykoff's daughter…_

"You knew…didn't you?" she asked, directing the question at her former handler. There was no way he hadn't. S.H.I.E.L.D. had complete DNA profiles on every last one of them, and in any kind of position of authority over the supposedly reformed Black Widow, he would have been told the truth. If Clint had known, he would have told her.

"Would you have really wanted to know?" Coulson returned by way of explanation. "When your hands were so recently covered in his blood…would you have really wanted to know the truth?"

"Maybe," she said, looking down at her hands. Coulson would never understand what it meant to be covered in blood…not the way she and Clint did. She was soaked…not only in the blood of the innocent, but of her brothers and sisters from the Red Room, as well. She had killed them all the night she and Clint had taken the Red Room down. What difference did it make…if some of that blood belonged to the man who had fathered her? But instead of pressing Coulson further, she turned her attention back to Dreykoff…her _father_. "Why, then? Why did you kill my mother?"

"Because she ran away. She tried to keep you from me. We had a plan, and she ran out on it. _She_ tried to deny you, but _I_ understood what your true potential could be…and then S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to deny you again, my girl. They _fear_ you. You could be greater than _any_ of them. That's why they kept the truth from you…to chain you…to turn you into their attack dog. With me, you could have anything you want."

"Pretty sure we've all heard this argument before," Clint interrupted, keeping his focus on Dreykoff, even though all he wanted to do was go to Natasha.

"Something to say, Clinton?" Dreykoff asked as he rose from his seat, leaving Natasha frozen where she was.

"You said something similar thirteen years ago…that S.H.I.E.L.D. could never give her what she wanted…as if you knew…as if you _cared_."

"I _do_ know, little hawk. Who would know better than I?"

"Me," he replied firmly, standing calmly as the Russian circled him, "and if you think she's the kind of woman for 'anything you want', you don't know her at all."

"Maybe not…but you might be. At least my Natasha had a purpose. What were you before S.H.I.E.L.D. sunk their teeth into you? A thief? A murderer? Yes…you have your father's blood in you, Hawkeye. I knew who you were the moment I saw you thirteen years ago."

Clint chuckled bitterly. "My father. It doesn't matter who my father was. I never knew the guy. The guy who died in the car crash wasn't even my real dad."

"I'm surprised you know even that much…but you are so wrong…about never knowing him."

"Clint-" Coulson started to warn.

"Not interested," he said to all of them.

"You are familiar with Jacques Duquesne, yes?"

Clint gritted his teeth in frustration. He had _tried_ to remain unattached, but Dreykoff had managed to sink his teeth in with just one name. Duquesne…the man who had raised him…trained him…the man who had-

"Swordsman," he said, cutting off his own thought before it could carry him any further. "Course I remember him. I killed him, didn't I."

"I don't suppose we need to go into your shared history…the circus, your bond…what he _did_ to you," Dreykoff hissed in his face…and the brief burst of hot breath in his face instantly took Clint back to a place he didn't want to go.

…_pinned down by a body much larger than his…a knee forcing his thighs apart…and __**pain**__…pain unlike anything he'd ever known…_

"_Damn brat. Couldn't just keep your mouth shut!"_

"_Please…please…no…"_

"It was horrible…what he did to you. You were only thirteen, after all."

"_Stop it!_" Clint hissed at him.

"That was what drove you down your path, wasn't it? Being betrayed…like _that_…by a man who had protected you. Only S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't able to pull you out until after you'd killed him…the one who…stole your innocence."

"I said _shut up!_" the archer growled.

"He was once an associate of mine. Did you know that?"

"No."

"Yes…and it pained me very much to learn of his murder…especially when I never got the chance to speak to the son he'd entrusted to me."

"He didn't…have a son."

"Oh, no?"

"Clint, you _mustn't listen!_" Coulson shouted before one of the guards smashed his rifle violently against his head. The man reeled briefly, but he didn't go down.

Clint knew it didn't matter whether or not he listened anymore. He already knew…and knowing had broken him all over again. The name Mimir had called him aboard the Helicarrier…

_Jackson…Jacqueson…Jacques' son._

"It was _you_," Dreykoff whispered in his ear. "The man your mother was fooling around with was Duquesne. He chose her _because_ of her connection to S.H.I.E.L.D…._because_ she was Peggy Carter's daughter…and I don't imagine the accident you all were in was any real accident. Jacques took you alive from the wreckage and raised you, never telling you that you really were his own. He would have told you eventually, if you hadn't caught him stealing from the circus, of course."

"So why would he…"

"There I cannot help you. Jacques was always a little…off, I think. If you don't believe me, you can always check the S.H.I.E.L.D. DNA profiles. I'm sure the truth is there…buried."

"No…I believe you," he said. He didn't even need to say anything when he glanced to Coulson, who shook his head.

"How could I tell you? It was bad enough…how could I tell you it was your own father who did it to you?"

"As with my dear girl, they kept the truth from you because they wanted to hold you back. It was always Jacques' intention that you be one of mine, but he wanted to do what he could for you first. Then he just…lost his temper that night and, well…you know the rest, of course."

"Of course…" Clint mumbled.

"This is the reason I let you have Natasha thirteen years ago. If you had been anyone else, I wouldn't have given her up so easily. I knew the two of you would be mine again one day."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Because I've watched the two of you all this time…and I know you. You both hate to be trapped…to be stuck in a cage…and this is what S.H.I.E.L.D. has made for you…a cage of morality and lies. They've chained you because they fear you. Be free of them. Don't let them chain your entire family. That _is_ what will happen. Zasha will be next. What she is…who she's descended from. They'll never allow her to have a life of her own. The only way you will all be free…is with me. What do you say?"

Throughout all of this, Clint hadn't been looking at Dreykoff. His eyes had been only for Natasha…and as Dreykoff waited for his answer, they spoke to each other in that way they had, with their eyes.

They'd been lied to…but that was nothing new. Lies were something they understood…could easily deal with. It didn't matter where on Earth they went. There would always be lies…because of what they were…what they had chosen to do.

Only it wasn't about them anymore…and it never would be again. It was about Zasha now. Her nursery would be painted crimson with the red from their ledgers. They had no right to her…or to each other, and they knew this. But…at the same time…one cannot help wanting…_hoping_.

The decision was clear.

XxX

The Avengers and their back up had only a moment to feel relief when the waves of goons stopped pouring out to meet them. Indeed, when that stopped, they found themselves faced with something much worse.

They were approached by a line of ghostly-looking fighters, who were followed by another line that looked even stranger. The second line consisted of the two they'd fought yesterday, along with two even younger. The boy looked relatively normal as far as serum infusion went, but the girl had an almost catlike appearance. Then, behind them, last of all, there was Schmidt in his stolen body.

"What do you think, Captain? Quite a collection, isn't it?"

"Collection?" Steve spat derisively. "They're just _kids!_"

"Oh, no, Steven. One who has been through the Red Room is no longer a child. Do you want this man thinking you are children?" he asked them.

"No!" the youngest girl snarled, baring what were clearly fangs.

"Prove yourselves, then. Kill them."

Almost instantly, the two sides devolved into chaotic battle: Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. versus HYDRA and 2R. One of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents was the first to go down, mauled by the little girl. The Red Guardian took the Hulk on from a distance with his flechette guns. The Asgardians engaged the Skull's Own and the young 2R boy confronted Tony, who was reluctant to fight at first, but was quickly persuaded to do otherwise when the boy sprang at him and partly tore off his mech arm, rendering it useless. When he fired at the kid, though, he just couldn't hit him; he moved so fast.

Darcy took a hit from one of the Skull's Own, driving Sif into a berserker rage. Steve couldn't quite see, but out of the corner of his eye, it looked like the Asgardian tore the man's head off. While all this was going on, Steve was skirting the edge of the battle, making his way toward Schmidt, who wasn't at all surprised when the captain finally appeared at his side.

"Okay, Schmidt, it's you and me."

"As it should be," his old enemy said, sneering as the two of them began to circle each other.

"Where's Bucky?" Steve demanded.

"Your precious soldier boy? Oh, he's around…moving around freely, I might point out. He isn't a prisoner here…not anymore. He serves me _willingly_."

"Bullshit!"

"Well…willingly, so long as I can give him what he wants at the end of the day…_death_."

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

Circling in closer, Schmidt hissed in is face, "James Barnes wishes for death…because he thinks you dead."

_Oh, no…_

"What have you done?"

"Showed him your battle. Were it not for my ingenious plan, you surely _would_ have died…but I could not have you die yet. I just needed him to experience the pain of your loss…in order to _break_ him, to bend him to my will."

"I don't believe you," Steve said firmly, even though he knew exactly what kind of pain Bucky must have been suffering these last twenty-four hours. ""Bucky would never serve you. _Never!_"

"You're sure?" Schmidt taunted, glancing over Steve's shoulder.

At that exact moment, a hideous scream rose over the sound of the battle. Steve whirled around to see Crossbones on his knees, hands crushed into twisted lumps of flesh and bone…crushed even further as the hands that held them squeezed even harder…one hand flesh, the other metal. A knot of horror slowly built in the super soldier's gut as his eyes followed the lines of those strong arms up to the owner's face…right up until he beheld the look in Bucky's eyes.

He was like a man possessed, his eyes lit with black rage as he continued to force the younger man to the ground. Then he ripped Steve's shield from his back. Plucking a gun from his hip, he tapped the muzzle against the vibranium.

"This doesn't belong to you."

Just as Bucky was aiming to put several bullets in Crossbones' skull, one of the white warriors tried to step in. Bucky whirled, almost faster than the eye could track, and put the rounds through his head instead.

"Anyone _else_ wanna try it?" he challenged, aiming around the circle of fighters.

"Bucky?"

At the sound of Steve's voice, he stiffened; then he turned to look at him. For a moment, he just looked blank, but then he gave his head a pitying shake.

"Who the Hell is Bucky?"

XxX


	15. Will You Marry Me?

(A/N) Sorry for the delay, as always. Holidays coming on and all, that sort of thing. My only warning for this chapter is that physics probably does not ensue.

Mudkipz: Heheh, thank you for the compliment.

Anon: Well, I must say, I enjoy your choice of personages to swear by. Glad you enjoyed the chapter. (And no worries about the comic store. We all have our oddness. I myself am a cosplayer. Haven't tried anything Marvel yet, but I imagine it's somewhere on the horizon.)

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter 15: Will You Marry Me?_

Steve wasn't sure how long he stood, just staring at the unfeeling expression on Bucky's face, but it may well have been a century or a second for all the difference it made.

"Buck…Bucky…come on…no…" he mumbled, taking several faltering steps in his direction. Bucky just smirked at him.

"No, sorry. Bucky doesn't live here anymore. He's dead. He died when Steve Rogers left him."

"Oh, Bucky…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. This is all my fault…"

"All _your_ fault? So everything's about you now, is it? Bit selfish. We're forgetting about Rogers."

At this, Steve felt something inside of him begin to splinter.

"What are you talking about? It's _me_. Steve! _Don't you recognize me?!_"

"Don't bother, Captain. Your voice cannot reach him where he is," Schmidt explained. "He will accomplish one more task…then _die._"

"_Shut up!_" Steve shouted at the former Nazi. "I came here to rescue Bucky, _not_ listen to you!"

"No one here to rescue," Bucky said, shrugging his shoulders as he began to circle Steve…like a wolf circles a wounded buck.

"Bucky…please…I got you back before. I _know_ you're still there, just…look at me…listen to me," he pleaded, dropping slowly to his knees as Bucky continued to circle.

"_Do you really think it's __**that**__ easy?!_" the incensed mercenary screamed at him, coming to a stop in front of him. "He cut me open! There's nothing left! I ought to just kill you right now!" he shouted, training his stolen weapon point blank between Steve's eyes.

Steve didn't look at the gun, though. He kept his eyes fixed on Bucky's face.

"Okay," he said softly, holding up his hands in supplication. "If you really don't know me…go ahead and shoot me."

For a moment, Bucky really looked like he might…but then he drew the gun back and shook his head, sneering at him. "Not that easy."

He hadn't shot him. The Winter Soldier would have shot him. It wasn't necessarily recognition, but it was a step in the right direction. Something in him was not going to shoot Steve Rogers.

"Bucky…you _should_ kill me…for what I put you through. But if you won't…just tell me…do you remember _this?_" he asked, slipping out Bucky's engagement ring and holding it up to him…on his knees, just like the night he'd popped the question.

For a moment, Bucky's face went blank again as he reached out to touch the simple silver band.

"Will you marry me?" he whispered…almost as if he remembered.

"Yes…" Steve whispered back.

"Did you forget, James?" Schmidt's voice suddenly broke in. "Steve is _dead_."

That was all it took to snap the Winter Soldier back into place. Rage flared up in Bucky's eyes once again and he smacked the ring away, sending it clinking against the far wall.

"It's just a trick…a trick to distract me from what I really have to do," Bucky said, turning his gaze back to the downed Crossbones.

"We have a deal," Schmidt explained. "If he kills Crossbones, I will kill him."

"And…why would you want Crossbones dead?" Steve asked.

"No particular reason. It was just the sort of goal your love needed in order to remember who he truly is…_what_ he is…what sort of master he serves."

"He's James Buchanan Barnes. He doesn't _serve_ anyone."

"Heh, you'd be surprised, my dear captain. Although…would you have his life spared?"

"Yes," Steve hissed, glaring at his enemy.

"Then I think you and I can make an arrangement. Give yourself to me, Steve Rogers."

"What? Right here in front of everyone?" Tony's voice suddenly interrupted. Schmidt threw the billionaire playboy a disgusted look.

"Surrender your body to me; become my host…and I will let him live."

"Bad move, Capsicle," Tony's voice sounded in his earpiece. "He gets both the serum _and_ you? Only one who wins is him."

"Think of it this way," Schmidt continued. "If you _don't_ do it, Sinthea will be my prisoner…forever."

It was true. Could he really live with himself…if he left an innocent woman to this fate? But…Schmidt with his body…all his knowledge of S.H.I.E.L.D. field operations…

Bucky…

"Oh, that face," Schmidt exulted. "I _so_ wanted to see that _face_. What _can_ you do? How _will_ you save everyone?"

There was only one way, Steve knew. The only way he'd ever accomplished anything in his life…by giving all of himself.

"Fine…I'll do it," he said softly.

"Excellent."

"Don't think it means I'm giving up, though," Steve warned. "I'm not going quiet. Every second for the rest of my life I will _fight_. I will never stop trying to get rid of you."

"I look forward to it," Schmidt said, his expression lascivious as a tentacle snaked its way out of his back and wandered languidly over to Steve, draping itself around his shoulders and guiding him toward the Skull. They had all been warned about the tentacles, but they still couldn't help but think how wrong it looked.

"_NOO!_" a barely recognizable voice suddenly screamed. Steve turned to see Bucky take a shot at Schmidt, who whipped out his own weapon and returned fire.

Schmidt only took a hit in the shoulder…but Bucky was hit in the chest.

Steve was sure he must have screamed, but he couldn't tell, as his ears seemed to stop working when Bucky fell to his knees. Seeing several sparks fly, he realized that the shot hadn't hit Bucky's heart. It was the ICD…the device keeping him alive. If he tried to use magic to heal the wound, his heart would stop anyway.

Steve tried to run, to get to him, but the tentacle that had been at his shoulders was suddenly rapped around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. Another tentacle reached forward and wrapped around Bucky, dragging him to them.

"You crafty little snake. You had us all going, didn't you," Schmidt hissed in his face.

"I told you before," Bucky hissed right back. "You can't do anything to me. You can't destroy what we really are."

"We will see."

"You…faked it?" Steve asked him, still in shock. Bucky smiled wearily at him.

"Sorry…had to…make it look real."

Before either of them could say anything more, Schmidt lifted Bucky into the air and slammed him back down, hard.

"Act or not, he really will die…unless you submit to me right now."

"Damn it! Why can't you just take what you want, you bastard!" Steve snarled at him.

"I could…but I want you to _submit_ first. Your James will _die_ without help," Schmidt reminded him.

"No…no, Steve…no…" Bucky pleaded with him, still struggling weakly against Schmidt's hold, even though he was badly disoriented from the blow. "You can't…give in…not for me."

Steve offered Bucky a sad smile. "I think…maybe you'll understand my choices a little better from now on. After all…what's worse…than the _pain_ of losing you?"

This silenced Bucky pretty thoroughly. Just because his transformation had been an act didn't mean he hadn't been _that_ close to losing himself…all because he'd thought he would never see Steve's face again.

"So…I do this…and he lives?" Steve clarified, finally meeting Schmidt's gaze again.

"If you want to call it that."

"All right. Do it," Steve said firmly, closing his eyes as the tentacle fell away from his neck. The next thing he felt was a pair of lips against his…

…then everything went black.

XxX

"You know something? You're right…Dad," Natasha said slowly as she got to her feet. Dreykoff turned to look at her, eyes expectant. "S.H.I.E.L.D. _has_ lied to us."

"Aren't a whole lot of people in the world who _haven't_ lied to us in some fashion," Clint continued, briefly drawing the man's attention. "Not like we didn't ask for it."

"But it's not ourselves we need to be thinking about now," Natasha picked up as she moved toward them. "It's Zasha. We need to think about what's best for her."

"My point exactly," Dreykoff said, clearly pleased. "You _know_ S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't what's best for her."

"No, it isn't," Natasha agreed. "A family is what she needs."

"2R _is_ a family. More so than you realized, eh?" the Russian half-joked.

"Maybe…though if _this_ is your idea of a family, you're even more fucked up than I realized."

"The Avengers are a family, too," Clint pointed out, moving to stand beside Dreykoff as Natasha clicked into place on the man's other side. They had him pinned.

"What?"

"Steve, Bucky, Thor, Bruce…even Tony…all of them," Clint began as he raised a gun to Dreykoff's head, "we can count on them to take care of our little girl…to love her if we can't be there for her."

"With _your_ family, all she would have would be a prison cell," Natasha said, raising up the gun Clint had slipped to her behind Dreykoff's back when he tried to slip out of their pincer move. A look of horror blossomed on the old Russian's face.

"It…it wouldn't have to be like that. We…we can change things-" the man tried to protest.

"We can't make up for what's been done…not really," Clint said, completely ignoring him.

"But there's no way in _Hell_ we're going back…just because it's impossible to atone," Natasha continued.

"Zasha will be _good_. She'll be everything her parents weren't," Clint said.

"And _that_ is our atonement," Natasha said.

"I've got red in my ledger," Clint began.

"I'd like to wipe it out," Natasha finished. Then, together, they fired.

The moment the guns went off, Coulson sprang into action, easily taking out the two men guarding him. Then he pulled a gun off one of them and shot the man guarding the young initiates. The younger boy…_Jarah_, Coulson reminded himself…screamed. Coulson hurried over to the four children.

"Don't look," he urged them, trying to shield them from the sight of the dead men. The three guards had been clean kills, but Dreykoff, well…two bullets colliding in the middle of one's brain has never done wonders for anyone's face.

Natasha reeled on her feet for a moment before Clint moved in to help her, allowing her to lean on him.

"You gonna be all right?" he asked her.

"Yeah…I'm okay," she said, only leaning on him a few moments before standing upright again. "We've got to…get out of here…find the others."

"Are there any other initiates?" Clint asked Coulson. He could deal with the fact that his friend was alive later.

"Five more. Most of them have gone with Schmidt to fight the strike force."

"Most?"

"Belle's still down here," Natasha filled in.

"She's…the one who reacted badly," Clint filled in for himself. "What happened to her?"

"It…it's difficult to explain," Natasha said, shaking her head, "and we don't have time."

"Miss…Miss Natasha?" Eve started, coming forward and tugging on the assassin's hand. "Is Mako going to be all right?"

Natasha rested a hand on the girl's head. She wasn't the type to sugarcoat things and she didn't want to lie to this little girl, so…

"I'm not sure. We're just going to have to go and find out. Are you ready to go into a fight?"

Eve nodded solemnly. Phil shot Natasha a look, but it bounced right off. He knew as well as she did by now that this girl could easily handle the sight of death. Young as she was, she was not the newest initiate and she had already been trained in calm and fearlessness.

"Will…will we get to go outside?" This from Shanta, the older girl. Natasha offered her a nod.

"We'll get you out. You'll never have to see this place again."

XxX

_When Steve regains his senses, he finds himself standing in an old apartment…__**his**__ old apartment, to be precise…his and Bucky's. It's night…and Bucky's out on the fire escape with a bottle in hand, singing to himself…and when Steve glances down at his own hands, he finds them tiny…weak…__**pre**__-serum._

"_Where am I?" he asks aloud._

"_Your subconscious is still gripped by the insanity-inducing effects of the serum poisoning," an all too familiar voice explains. Steve spins around to see Schmidt standing in their apartment…the Red Skull as he really is. "This is how your unconscious mind manifests itself…as a prisoner of both itself…and me."_

"_So…why here?" Steve asks. He remembers what happened, and he **knows** what night he's remembering. "Why this night?"_

"_Because it would appear that this is the heart of you…Steve Rogers," the Skull explains, beginning to circle him. "Not any of the other moments from your **illustrious** career…nor your happy times with your lover…or even the many times you failed to save his life. No. It's **this**."_

_Trying to ignore his enemy, Steve turns back to look at Bucky, whose face is run with tear tracks…only because he thinks Steve can't see him…because he thinks he's back in bed, sleeping. With a twinge in his chest, Steve hears the words of Bucky's sad love song._

_**Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling  
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side  
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling  
It's you, it's you must go and I must bide.**_

_**But come ye back when summer's in the meadow  
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow  
And I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow  
Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.**_

"_You feel guilty…for not understanding his pain back then," Schmidt says, ceasing his circling and moving closer to Bucky. "His heart was breaking every day for you; his hurt crying out to you…but you didn't see."_

"_I didn't," Steve admits sadly._

"_Or perhaps…you did not **want** to see?" Schmidt suggests._

_Steve nods, unable to deny it. It could be he had known…but had been too afraid to really **see**. Even though they've both hurt each other by dying, Bucky has certainly suffered the worst between the two of them…living for years with the pain of unrequited love…never expecting that love to be returned…but unable to release it, just the same._

_**Why? Back then…**_why?

_When he had seen Bucky crying out on the fire escape this night so long ago…something in him had kept him from going to his friend. Why?_

"_Can you go to him?" Schmidt asks, coming to stand beside Bucky and laying a hand on his shoulder. Bucky doesn't even feel it…a ghost of the past._

"_Get away from him!" Steve snarls._

The first sign that the transference was occurring was the tentacles shriveling up and receding into Schmidt's back. The moment Bucky was free, he was on his feet, even though he was still dazed and bleeding.

"Get away from him!" he yelled, but before he could take even one step, Schmidt broke the kiss with a scream, tumbling back several steps and ultimately collapsing. Steve stood still for several moments, eyes still closed as he fell slowly to his knees. Bucky approached him quickly, but moved to his knees slowly.

"Steve?" he called. "Steve, can you hear me?"

The moment the two knelt before each other seemed to stretch for eternity. Then, all in an instant, his eyes snapped open and his arm shot out, fingers wrapping mercilessly around Bucky's neck. Then his lips were at his ear and a cold voice that wasn't Steve was hissing, "He's _mine._"

"No…" Bucky choked out. "No…_Steve_…"

The man who had stolen Steve's face threw his head back and laughed, his grip on Bucky's throat tightening. Then he slammed him to the floor again. Steve's blue eyes stared down at him…only it wasn't Steve behind them.

"Let's see how you enjoy me when it's _his_ body, little soldier," he mocked, forcing a knee between Bucky's legs.

"No," Bucky groaned, his voice rising in anger. "You won't- use him for this." With that, he finally managed to pull up the gun he'd somehow held onto during the assault, pressing the muzzle harshly against the man-who-wasn't-Steve's temple. Upon feeling the pressure, he sneered down at him.

"Ooh, I _like_ this. Can you really do it, James? Can you pull the trigger? Can _you_ put a bullet in _Steve Rogers'_ brain?"

Bucky steeled himself, repositioning the weapon. "He would _rather_ die…than be used like this. Leave his body, or I shoot."

"Then what happens? After we're both dead? I don't think you can do it. They've taken the ice out of you."

Bucky wasn't about to admit it, but Schmidt was right. There was no force on Heaven, Hell, or Earth that could make Bucky Barnes pull that trigger…and he couldn't raise the Winter Soldier for this…he _wouldn't_.

"Just as I thought," Steve's mouth said, his head shaking in mocking pity before he delivered a sharp blow to the bullet wound in Bucky's chest, which sent him reeling back with a cry of pain.

"I did promise Steve I would let you live, but you aren't exactly making it easy for me, James," the imposter chastised him as he got to his feet, coming to tower over him.

_Schmidt easily catches Steve's first blow, twisting his weak body aside._

"_What can **you** do, Rogers?" he taunts him. "If **this** is your heart, you're even weaker than I thought. You are **nothing.**"_

"_Maybe so," Steve says, gathering himself for another hit, "but there's **always** something you can do."_

"_So what **will** you do?" Schmidt asks, delivering a blow that would knock out teeth, but Steve manages to stand against it._

"_I'll go to him…what I should have done before." The next blow actually sends the Skull back a step._

"_And if you cannot?"_

"_Then you and I **both** go down. You sure as Hell aren't touching him again," Steve declares, feeling his strength start to return as his latest blow connects with Schmidt's face._

Bucky waited until Schmidt was directly above him before making his move, drawing his legs up against his chest and delivering a fierce double kick to his opponent's chest. Despite being in intense pain, he was quickly back on his feet.

"Yeah, this doesn't work for me, Schmidt. He never did ask for my opinion on this whole trade. If anyone else has any kind of say in what happens to that body, it's me, and this. Doesn't. Work. For me," he repeated, glaring at the man he had to keep reminding himself was _not_ Steve.

"That wound isn't going to heal if you keep fighting me. Just how do you expect to defeat me? Magic?"

"Nah," Bucky began as they circled each other. "I don't need magic to beat you. How about this little trick?"

He moved almost faster than the eye could track. One moment, his arm twitched, and the next there was a knife buried in Schmidt's gut…and even though Bucky _knew_ he was fighting an enemy, it still tore at something in him to see Steve's familiar features twist in pain…pain _he'd_ caused.

"Good," Schmidt half-laughed as he pulled the surgical blade from his stomach. "So you _can_ hurt this body."

"He can pay me back later. Besides, we're even now…both dying where we stand. I'd give you half an hour at the most."

"Heh, and _you_ haven't even got _that_ long."

"I don't _need_ half an hour. I can persuade you to close up shop before the clock runs out. You _know_ the way out of this."

"And if I _don't_ leave? If you kill me…kill _us?_"

Bucky swallowed painfully as he gazed into the eyes he knew so well…eyes now twisted with rage and malice. It was a terrible risk, he knew…but this couldn't be allowed to go on. Steve had made him the same promise a year ago.

"If he can't ever come back…then we'll go together," he swore as he pulled out another knife.

_Steve feels the pain as another blade pierces his body. This one feels to be somewhere in his side. Just because he isn't in control doesn't mean he can't feel the pain. Schmidt almost seems to be __**enjoying**__ the pain, though, laughing maniacally as they grapple._

"_Your love seems quite determined to die."_

"_I noticed…which is why I need to get back there and pop him one," he says, doing the same for the Skull._

"_And it doesn't bother you? That **he** might kill **you?**" Schmidt asks, delivering a blow to his gut and sending him back several feet._

"_The only thing that would bother me…would be if you used my hands to kill him." Steve snarls, leaping right back into the fray and knocking Schmidt right off his feet. "So the only way I see this working is…you gotta go." As he speaks, he wraps his fingers around the Skull's throat, squeezing with all his might…and as he squeezes, he feels the lack of breath in his own lungs._

Bucky backed off when Schmidt suddenly dropped to his knees, shouting and clawing at his own throat…like there was something crushing it.

"No…no…it belongs…to _me_," he choked out, growling. "_I'm_ in control!"

"Steve?" Bucky murmured hopefully.

That moment of distraction was all it took. Schmidt leapt at him, grappling him to the floor and wrapping both hands securely around his neck.

"Guess again, little soldier," he snarled, his voice hoarse.

Bucky took several swipes and stabs with his knife, but Schmidt absolutely refused to relinquish his hold. No physical pain was going to pry this from him. This time…he was really going to finish it.

As Bucky struggled, Schmidt's gaze was suddenly drawn off to his side by a splash of color. The shield. Barnes had dropped the shield when he'd grabbed him before. Sneering, he reached for it with one hand, while still keeping Bucky pinned beneath him.

"Yes," he exulted as he raised the shield overhead. "To kill you with his own weapon…it will be the end of _both_ of you!"

Even though he continued his valiant struggle, Bucky knew what must surely have been reflected in his eyes…fear. Not for himself…but for Steve.

_Steve…?_

_Steve is aware. He knows what's about to happen…and it just drives his desperation to even greater heights. This **cannot** happen. It **will** not!_

"_Let him go!" Steve shouts down at his old foe. "Let him go **now!**"_

"_Only…if you…release me," Schmidt chokes out._

_Briefly, Steve considers it…but in the end, he knows he can't give in. Schmidt will always be a threat. He will never leave them in peace. He will never let them live…and if all three of them have to end today, so be it._

"_I told you…I would kill you myself," he whispers, barely able to breathe himself. "I meant it."_

"_If you…kill me…we will **both** die," Schmidt warns him._

"_I don't care. You…will still be dead…and…even if we **do** die today…if you…**do** manage to kill our bodies…you can't destroy us. You can **never**…destroy what we **really are!**"_

_For the briefest of moments, the Skull's eyes are lit with shock and fear._

"_You are…a fool…Steve Rogers."_

"_That's enough!" Steve cries out as he senses Schmidt start to slam the shield down on Bucky's defenseless throat. "Just…fucking…**DIE!**"_

Schmidt's eyes went wide as the shield clattered away and he near collapsed on top of Bucky.

"A…Alrik!" he barely managed to cry out. His minion was at his side instantly.

Schmidt didn't waste time with the display of a kiss this time around. He simply placed a hand on Alrik's shoulder and Steve's body convulsed briefly before going limp. Bucky caught him as he came down.

"Steve? Steve…are you there?" he called out, his own voice hoarse from the treatment of his throat. "Please…_please_ be okay."

_Steve isn't entirely certain what happened. All he knows is that he's waking up on the floor of his old apartment and the Skull is gone. He's __**free**__…_

_For a moment, he considers just going back to sleep…never moving, never waking again. He's **so** tired; his very being is heavy with the weight of his exhaustion…_

…_but then he hears Bucky singing again._

_**He's…crying.**_

_Bucky still needs him. He can't sleep yet. Moving very slowly, as if pulling himself up through dirt after being buried alive, he climbs to his feet and stumbles out onto the fire escape. Then he does what he should have done all those years ago…wraps his arms around Bucky from behind and rests his forehead against his back._

"_I'm here, Buck. I'm here for you. I'm sorry…I didn't see…and I let you fight alone for so long. I'm sorry. I love you, James."_

_Steve feels Bucky react to him the moment they connect. His body trembles even worse with the attempt to stop his tears._

"…_Steve?"_

"Steve?"

He could hear Bucky's voice now…really _hear_ it. Slowly, he opened his eyes…and found his face buried in Bucky's hair, the familiar scent soothing his fried nerves.

"Bucky?" he called quietly. Then he felt a pair of arms tighten around him. Even for him, the embrace was bruising.

"You _idiot!_" Bucky hissed in his ear. "You were _always_ such an _idiot!_"

"Sorry," Steve whispered. "I can't…seem to move."

"Shut up," Bucky scolded him, kissing his ear. "This is a good thing. For once in your life, you can just sit still and not get yourself hurt."

"Johann!" a thundering voice suddenly sounded throughout the complex. "You have failed me."

Schmidt, now in Alrik's body, glanced fearfully around. "What…what are you talking about? Of _course_ I haven't! You have six perfectly capable soldiers willing to fight."

"But you have failed to regain the Winter Soldier…and the captain as your vessel, as you swore you would."

"I can hold him. I only need more time!" Schmidt argued with the disembodied voice. "Give me another chance!"

"You have wasted your chance. The humans will destroy this operation. Perhaps this is _your_ best chance, but some of us have bigger pictures in mind. I need to cut my losses."

"No! Please!" Schmidt begged.

"Spare me your pleas. We are done here."

"Why don't you just kill me?" Schmidt asked, wincing as he spoke. Clearly, the question was asked at his own peril.

"Death is too quick for those who fail me. The Asgardians were never going to kill Loki, so I left him to them. He will prove useful again in the future. You, on the other hand…if I leave you to these humans, they will kill you, and I cannot have you die just yet."

Suddenly, a horrible, screeching, white noise sound filled the air, crippling the combatants and dropping them all to their knees. Then the air near Schmidt seemed to _split_ in a burst of energy, revealing some sort of room, half-hidden in shadow. A figure could be seen within, himself also half-concealed. In the shadows, a pair of luminescent blue eyes stood out from the darkness.

"It's me or them, Johann. Take your pick."

Schmidt seemed to realize there was only one sane choice. Getting to his feet and beckoning to Skadi, the only other surviving member of Skull's Own. Together the two of them walked through the portal.

"Children of Dreykoff," the shadowy figure announced to the group, "your father is dead, but your powers can still be of use. Join me, children of man, and I will see that your dues are granted to you."

Crossbones and Arrow stepped through without a second thought, both smirking with wild glee at the thought of what awaited. Alexei hesitated a moment before shrugging and following his comrades. Makoto was the only one who knelt, frozen where he was.

"Well?" the figure pressed, his intense gaze focused on the boy. Slowly, he shook his head.

"N-no…this…isn't right."

"Mako!" a new voice screamed, and suddenly a blonde blur shot onto the scene, wrapping her small arms around the boy.

"Evie?" he whispered in shock. The others glanced in the direction she'd come from and saw Natasha, Clint, and Coulson coming toward them, leading four others.

"What about you, little girl?" the figure asked, fixing his gaze on the oldest of the girls. For a moment, Belle just stared back, but then she collapsed to her knees with the rest of them, clutching at her head and screaming.

"Monsters in the closet…monsters in the closet," she murmured between shrieks. "Don't look under the bed…_never look!_ They come from the black!"

"I'd say that's an unqualified 'no'," Coulson snapped, kneeling beside the trembling girl and wrapping his arms around her.

"And you, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"I think you know where you can stick your dues, Frankenstein."

"A shame. And the doctor?" the figure continued, glancing toward Sinthea, who was sitting up. "You have really tasted this power. What do you think?"

For what seemed like a long while, Sinthea stared at him. Then she shook her head and bit out, "Just go to Hell."

"And, of course, the soldiers," the figure said, turning his eyes to the two men out of time. "The Winter Soldier and his captain. To win the two of you would be a greater achievement than all of these children."

"Well, you're just shit outta luck, aren't ya," Bucky jibed, shifting into a position where he was crouching protectively over Steve, who still couldn't quite move.

"You belong to me anyway…Winter Soldier. After all, it was _I_ who commissioned your creation. I could just take what belongs to me now…but it is better that you _choose_ to join me, I think."

"You can just close up shop and leave, then, 'cuz that's never gonna happen," the mercenary informed him.

"Did you know I can _save_ you?"

"Not interested," Bucky said…now if only he'd said it immediately, instead of hesitating for a breath or two.

"You wouldn't have to die if you joined me…and you wouldn't have to depend on the Asgardians for your life, either. You could have life eternal and you wouldn't have to give up your magic."

"Yeah," Bucky started slowly, laying a hand on Steve's shoulder to ground himself. He was already starting to drift away. "I bet you _could_ give me all that…but only _after_ I'd given up everything I love. No thanks."

"Fine. Be a fool. You don't have long anyway. Avengers," he continued, looking around at all of them, "until next we meet…" he finished before allowing his portal to snap shut. No sooner had it vanished than Bucky collapsed, his head resting beside Steve's.

"Bucky!" Steve shouted. He tried to move, but was only able to roll onto his side, reaching a hand out to his face. The device in Bucky's chest gave a few feeble sparks.

"I guess it's…quittin' on me."

"No. No, Buck, _no!_ Come on!"

"Get the reactor down here!" Tony's voice could be heard barking to topside. "We're going to have to use their equipment."

"Steve, there…there's something… you have to know…incase…incase I don't pull through."

"Stop saying that, you _bastard!_" Steve shouted at him, gripping his shoulder in a white fist. Not saying anything, Bucky reached forward and pressed his fingers against Steve's temple.

"No…no, you _idiot!_ Don't use _magic!_ You can't-"

Steve's voice died in his throat when the images Bucky was passing to him entered his mind's eye.

_Bucky thrusting into Loki…his eyes downcast and his face red with shame…_

_Two babies…a girl with brown hair and green eyes and a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes…_

_Hel and Fenrir._

_**They're ours, Steve. They're **_ours.

"Ours?" Steve breathed, barely comprehending.

"Ours. Our babies," Bucky whispered just for him, smiling weakly before losing his hold on consciousness.

_Find them._

XxX


	16. To Have and To Hold

(A/N) Ach, dear Goddess, I'm sorry for the delay on this last one. Busy holiday season, don'tcha know. Plus, the Hobbit fandom has started to lay another claim to my lil fic author heart.

Mudkipz: Heheh, y'know, I'm pretty sure I was posting the last chapter just as you were posting your request for an update. That was an amusing night indeed, m'dear.

Anon: As always, thank you much for the praise. Glad to please you. As far as a cosplay mech arm goes…have you considered pleather? I used it to make armor once. The best I could do for cosplaying fire is scarves (used some of those to simulate firebending when I cosplayed Zuko, if you know Avatar at all).

**To Have and To Hold**

_Chapter16: To Have and To Hold_

_Bucky's dreams aren't quiet…in fact, they're more like nightmares. It's like he's back with Loki again…_

…_knives tear into his chest, leaving him open, his insides filled with liquid fire. He's not sure if he's screaming out loud or if it's just in his head, but one way or the other, there's definitely screaming._

_**Steve…I'm **_trying _**to come back to you…I **_am. _**It's just…it's so **_hard.

_**Was it ever **_not_** hard, jerk?**__ He hears Steve's voice calling through the pain and the dark. __**Come on; get up. It's time to come home. Everyone's waiting.**_

_Home? Home is a too small cot in an orphanage where the two of them cling together. Home is a crappy little apartment where they don't always have enough to eat, but they've still got each other. Home is patching Steve up after yet another back alley tussle. It's that last hug they share before he ships out. It's the letters he writes home…and the pocket watch where he keeps Steve's picture. Home is a foxhole in France where they huddle together against the bitter cold of winter. It's the moment Steve pulls him out of Loki's darkness…the moment he hears the words he's wanted to hear all his life. Home is waking up beside him…no matter how strange the world they find themselves in is._

_Home is where Steve is…and he can't give it up…not after he struggled for so long to have it. So he battles on, fighting through the pain, struggling through the darkness, knowing that if he keeps going, somehow he will find his way back to Steve._

XxX

Steve's first breath upon regaining consciousness was tainted by the sharp sting of antiseptic in his nose. When his eyes snapped open, he was greeted with the sight of the helicarrier's medical bay, a sight he was not at all unfamiliar with.

Suddenly remembering what had happened, Steve shot up from the bed he was laid out on. "Bucky!" he shouted in a panic.

"Don't worry. He's fine."

Glancing sharply in the direction of the voice, Steve found himself looking at Sinthea Schmidt, sitting in a bed across the way from his and dressed in a hospital gown. A quick stock told him he was dressed similarly, and a glance to his right revealed Bucky lying in the bed next to him. Through the thin blanket and the hospital gown, the pale blue ring of an arc rector shone brightly.

"It…it worked? He's okay?"

"As okay as can be expected. You both took quite a beating. Anyone else would have died. You had a whole other consciousness in your head and Barnes underwent a major surgery with no sedation. True, he was already unconscious…but I'm sure he felt it," she said softly, her gaze pitying as she looked at them.

For a moment, Steve wanted to be angry, but the feeling was quickly replaced by relief and understanding. Of _course_ there hadn't been time. Bucky would have died otherwise.

"Captain Rogers?"

"You can call me Steve, Dr. Schmidt."

"The same goes for you, then. Steve…I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You told me…once…that I hadn't looked true evil in the face. You were right. I didn't see…didn't understand…"

"Well…that's the point of people like me, isn't it. So you don't have to."

"Still…the _things_ he did…that he used _my hands_ to do," she hissed, drawing her knees up against her chest so she wouldn't have to look at said hands anymore.

"Sinthea…I don't blame you for it," Steve told her, figuring she was talking about what the Skull had done to Bucky. "You didn't do those things."

"I wonder if _he_ feels that way?" she mumbled, glancing back at Bucky. "After all…_he_ was the one who went through it."

"You both did. Schmidt is going to pay for what he's done. We'll find him…someday."

"I would be happy if I never heard the name Red Skull again," she muttered bitterly.

"Wouldn't we all. Though…do you know…how long we've been out? How long it's been? What happened to the others?"

"I haven't been awake very long myself. Agent Lewis came in to see us a while ago. We've been under about twenty-four hours. About half the strike force remained behind to secure the facility and the rest returned with the Avengers and the liberated 2R initiates. We were lifted out of Berlin once surgery had been completed on you and Agent Barnes. They performed surgery on Agent Barton in-flight."

"Clint?" Steve asked, glancing around the ward and finding both Natasha _and_ Clint, lying in adjacent beds, both still passed out. From what he could see, the archer was heavily bandaged. Despite how good he was at hiding it, he _had_ been badly injured.

"They're recovering well," Sinthea continued, her voice still quiet. "They'll probably be out another twenty-four hours or so. The other Avengers are all fine. Stark's already repaired the arm that was damaged…and I think we'd _all_ be impressed with the enemy who could actually injure Thor or Bruce. Oh, and…Agent Lewis brought this," she said, rising from her bed and carrying something to him. She opened her hands to reveal the engagement ring, the little silver band that had been through so much. "She wanted to make sure it got back to you."

"Thank you," Steve whispered as she dropped the ring into his cupped palm. Before either of them could say anything more, though, the sound of whimpering started up in the next bed over. They both looked over to see Bucky starting to thrash.

"He's waking," the doctor said. "I'll just…give you two some space, then." Having said so, she moved away to another part of the ward. She would never be out of earshot, Steve knew, not with her advanced hearing, but it was more the principle of the thing than anything else, and Steve appreciated it.

Rising from his own bed, Steve moved to kneel beside Bucky, reaching out a gentle hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Bucky?" he called. "Buck, can you hear me?"

"Dead…" he mumbled despairingly, eyes still closed. "You're _dead_."

"No, Bucky, I'm not. I'm right here. I'm with you. Come on. Come back to me. You're safe now."

Bucky tossed his head from side to side, murmuring a few more unintelligible things before his eyes suddenly burst open. Then he shot bolt upright, his metal fist flying forward to connect with Steve's face…except Steve was too fast. He caught the blow, holding Bucky tightly with both hands.

"Bucky, it's _me_. It's _Steve_. You know me, don't you?" he pressed, his expression soft, though his grip was hard.

"Steve?" Bucky whispered, his eyes going wide for a moment before he went limp in Steve's arms.

For a while, Steve just held him, stroking his hair and nuzzling his ear.

"Do you remember what happened?" Steve asked him.

Slowly, Bucky nodded, still clinging to Steve as he looked up at him. He had remained strong during the fight because he'd had to, but now…

"After…Schmidt told me what…what happened, I…it's all a little hazy. I remember…being angry…_so_ angry…and sad. I didn't know how I was still breathing, it hurt so bad."

"I didn't…want you to know what that feels like…not ever," Steve said, cradling him a little closer. "I tried…I _tried-_"

"I know," Bucky interrupted in a whisper. "It's not your fault. I _knew_…what I was getting into. I just…I never thought-" his voice cut off at this, his throat tightening against the tears that wanted to escape.

"Neither of us did," Steve said quietly, running his fingers through Bucky's hair. "If I'd known…if I'd only _known_…I never would've let you go."

"You wouldn't have been able to stop me," Bucky said, trying to laugh and failing, winding up with more of a strangled half-sob. Slowly, he reached a hand between them and pressed it against his heart…the arc reactor. "But…these wounds…they just won't _heal_. Is this…the kind of pain I caused you…seventy years ago?" he asked haltingly.

"Bucky, don't-"

"_They told me you were dead!_" Bucky suddenly shouted, pulling back from Steve and seizing his shoulders in talon-like fingers. His eyes were wild…_desperate_. "What…could I do? Where could I go? In a world without _you_…"

"Oh…Bucky…Bucky…" was all Steve could manage as he pulled his fiancé back against his chest, holding him tightly. "I'm here. I'm right here."

They couldn't both fit on the bed, like they had in the old days, so they wound up on the floor, clinging to each other while Bucky sobbed into Steve's chest.

"They told me you were dead!" he cried, over and over again, clutching at Steve as if for his life. "I saw that shot…and I saw you fall. They told me you were dead!"

For a long while, they huddled together on the floor. Steve whispered soothingly to Bucky, being as comforting as he could be, even though he was boiling with helpless rage on the inside. That Schmidt could _do_ this to Bucky…

_Someday, Johann Schmidt…somehow, some way…I will __**find**__ you…and I __**will kill**__ you,_ he vowed as he held his broken lover. _It doesn't matter where you go. If I have to follow your stinking hide to the end of the universe, I won't rest until you're __**dead!**_

XxX

It was several days before Bucky and Sinthea were deemed fit for debriefing, and even then, it wasn't handled in the usual way. Sinthea spoke to Phil, which wasn't unusual, but Bucky wouldn't speak to anyone but Steve about what had happened to him, so Fury allowed the captain to handle his debriefing. Once this was taken care of, Fury decided that they all needed to sit down for a chat. At first, it had been a matter of whether or no their comrades were going to pull through, but once that was no longer and issue, the other questions started piling up. Why was Phil Coulson not dead chief among them.

"I had an opportunity," Fury explained to the conference room at large. "So I took it. We had intelligence that 2R was gathering strength again. They'd already managed to train a new set of initiates before we infiltrated. Coulson was familiar with our past cases with the Red Room, and here we had a chance to drop him off the grid entirely and put him under deep cover."

"It took me several months just to infiltrate the organization," Phil started to explain. "Even longer to work my way up through it. I didn't realize…until just a few days before the attack…that Dreykoff was still in charge. He kept himself extremely well hidden. If I'd known…if I'd only known what he was planning…I would have gotten the word out sooner. I should've-"

Clint held up a hand to silence his friend, who was mostly speaking to him and Natasha now. "We don't blame you for it, man. You were just doing your job. You, on the other hand," he continued, looking to Fury, "don't take orders from anyone. You made a _choice_. So why didn't you tell us who our fathers were?"

"Were you afraid we would join them" Natasha asked, her tone neutral, but her gaze pointed.

"No," Fury countered. " _I_ wasn't. Others weren't so confident, but that was never my reason."

"Why, then?" Clint pressed.

"Did it not occur to you maybe I thought you'd been through enough?" Fury asked. "Barton…your guardian raped you and drove you into the life of killing and crime you took up before becoming an agent. Did that same man really have to be your biological father, as well? Romanoff…Dreykoff murdered your mother, imprisoned you, and mind-raped you into the best assassin this side of 1950. Did it have to be the case that he created you in more ways than one? Does it change who you are _now?_ Knowing where you came from?"

"Not really," Natasha said after several moments. "But it would have been better to hear it from _you_…than from Dreykoff."

Nick Fury surveyed his two best agents for a silent moment. He hadn't lost them, not completely…but he had destroyed something between them because of this…because he'd wanted to protect them…and it would take a long time to rebuild, if it even _could_ be.

"Though…with Dreykoff dead…it does leave the question of what to do with the children 2R left behind," Maria Hill put in, drawing the conversation away from the disheartening subject.

"Don't they have any family at all?" Bruce asked.

"No," Natasha answered immediately. "It's a stipulation of being taken into the Red Room. Anyone who might miss you is eliminated…dying in an intricate murder made to look like an accident. There is nothing and no one for these children to go back to."

"Even if there was, who would really be equipped to raise a kid conditioned by 2R?" Clint added.

"Tell me about it," Tony said, flexing his newly repaired mech arm. "Those brats are dynamite."

"It's gonna have to be us," Phil finally said.

"_We_ us?" Maria asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well…it's like Barton said. No one else is equipped to deal with them…the way they've been raised and what they've been exposed to…no one but us."

"Do you mean…keep them in a lab somewhere? Like we do with known threats? Like what _he_ did?" Natasha asked, the threat of anger in her voice.

"Of course not. I mean like a family…give these kids the things they've been denied, train them to use their abilities the _right_ way, keep them from going the way of Arrow and the others."

"And who decides what the _right_ way is?" Bucky suddenly asked, glancing around at all of them. "Who are we to decide what's best?"

"We're the only people who _can_, Barnes," Natasha explained, drawing his gaze. "No one else can understand that these children aren't children. No one else can handle that. We're the only chance they have."

"And do they get a say? On whether or not they're molded into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s _little soldiers?_" he spat out, but the moment the last two words left his mouth, a strangely stricken look entered his eyes and he shook his head, slowly letting it fall into his hands. As he trembled, Steve reached an arm over to drape it around his shoulders.

"Everyone here has a choice, Agent Barnes," Fury said, his voice calculating as he watched the two men.

"Director?" Sinthea broke in. "On the subject of the children's abilities…at least in regards to those of…Belle and Makoto…I would like to request that my research into the super soldier serum be destroyed."

Fury sighed heavily before even beginning to speak. "Doctor-"

"I don't want it classified. I don't want it buried on a secret hard drive somewhere. I want it _gone_, Nick. It shouldn't exist."

"Sinthea, the council-"

"I know what they want…what they've always wanted from me…but the decision is _mine_. _I'm_ the one who reinvented the formula and _I'll_ decide what its fate is. I want it destroyed. Every sample, every note, every last byte of data, I want it all incinerated…and if you won't help me, I'll do it myself. I've seen what it can do…and humanity isn't ready to possess it yet. Not if it can…hurt people this way."

"And what are we supposed to do if Schmidt's benefactor figures out how to use that formula on his own species?" Fury pointed out. "Schmidt _does_ still have the formula in his head, after all. What if we _need_ more soldiers?"

"You won't," Sinthea said firmly, glancing to Steve and Bucky. "And I _know_ you don't really believe that. You've never agreed with any of the council's tactics. Besides…if _that's_ the only way we can win…then we don't deserve to win at all. No victory is worth what I saw lost in Berlin. Belle…may never be herself again."

"On the subject, though…of these super-powered children…and the being who took the others…you mentioned a figure named Thanos. You believe this might have been the same being?"

"I do. Schmidt spoke of him to me. I believe he's the only being in all of creation my grandfather fears. He also told me this Thanos is the same alien who backed Loki…the one who wanted the Tesseract."

"The one Loki said we should be afraid of," Bucky said slowly, looking back up. "The one who allowed him to create _me_."

"And for some reason…seems to want you back," Fury noted, returning to quietly appraising his agent.

"Trying to say something, _director?_" Bucky asked pointedly, seeing the way Fury was looking at him.

"Schmidt's goal was to awaken _you_…and he came pretty damn close. Was he right? Are you anything more than a weapon? To be used at your _master's_ pleasure?"

"Fury-" Steve began threateningly.

"I'm _not_ goin' back," Bucky said, nearly growling at the director.

"Really? You can guarantee me that? Cuz the slaughterhouse my team found at 2R's base does give me a little pause."

"What…what do you mean?" Bucky asked, his anger slowly starting to drain away. His memory of the time after his revelation about the twins was a little hazy.

"The strike team faced less of a fight from 2R and HYDRA's forces than they were expecting. Anyone know why that was?" Fury asked. When no one answered, he turned his focus back to Bucky. "It's because you'd _killed_ everyone else in that base by the time they got there. Forget about that, did you?"

"I had to," Bucky said after several minutes of silence. "If we were going to get out-"

"All and aware of that, Barnes. We'd never get anywhere if I had to worry about you all killing when you need to. What bothers me is that you don't seem to remember it…like the programming took over again…might have taken over completely…_permanently_…if Cap hadn't shown up when he did. What are those little voices in your head gonna tell you to do next?"

"That's _enough_," Steve started to argue, but was soon interrupted by Bucky's hand on his shoulder.

"No, Steve…no. He's right," Bucky said, staring down at the conference table as he spoke, and only Steve knowing just how tightly he was gripping his shoulder.

"Which is why, I think, you'll support my decision to remove you from the field."

"What?!" Steve demanded, his head snapping back up.

"Only for the time being," Fury started to explain. "Just 'til you get your head back on straight…maybe 'til we know a little more about this Thanos character, figure out why he wants the Winter Soldier so bad."

"It wasn't just him," Steve reminded them. "It was both of us he wanted. Could be the serum…considering the kids," he speculated.

"Except I don't _have_ the serum," Bucky said, his hand dropping beneath the table to rest on Steve's knee. "Must be something else."

"Anything to do with that thing Loki was talking about?" Fury pressed.

"Dunno. Never did figure it out," Bucky lied. Fury eyed both men up and down, but neither gave any indication it was anything but the truth, and Steve was a terrible liar. This was, however, a slightly different situation. The lovers had had a telepathic conversation regarding the situation prior to the meeting, negating even the slightest possibility they'd be overheard or recorded in any way. They had agreed not to trust S.H.I.E.L.D. with that information yet. Just because Loki happened to be the other parent of their children didn't make their family any of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s business. They would tell more when they knew more.

"All right. We'll discuss the terms later this week. For now, we'd better see about these kids," Fury said, letting them all know they were adjourned.

Bucky and Steve were silent as they headed away from the conference room.

"They're afraid of me," Bucky said after a time.

"Buck-"

"They _should_ be," Bucky continued before Steve could attempt to console him. "I _am_ dangerous. Don't try to pretend I'm not."

"It isn't that," Steve said, taking both his hands in his, flesh and metal. "Given the right trigger…we're _all_ dangerous. You could say that about most people."

"Are we all _unstable_, though?" Bucky asked, his hands tightening into fists around Steve's gentle grasp. Steve bore the grip with quiet patience.

"To work for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Maybe. Point is…it's not your fault. It's _mine_."

"The Hell you talkin' about?" Bucky asked, glaring up at him.

"All these things that've happened to you…what our enemies have done to you…it was because of _me_. It's _my fault_."

"Steve-" Bucky started, shaking his head.

"It is. You _know_ it is. If Erskine had never found me-"

"_If_ he'd never found you, I would have _died_ in that factory. Ain't black and white, Rogers."

"Is it black and white, then…that you're to be feared? Banished?" Steve pressed, moving Bucky until he had him leaning against the wall of the corridor. "If anyone should be punished, it should be me."

"Wasn't…your fault," Bucky said softly, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. "If I…didn't want this…I could've…walked away…but this," he said, reaching a hand up to stroke the side of Steve's face, "this is worth _everything_."

"Is it?" Steve asked, his expression pained as he held Bucky's hand where it was. Bucky nodded.

"I'm not gonna tell you I'm okay," he said honestly, rubbing his thumb along his partner's cheek, "but it _was_ worth it."

They didn't say anything for a long while after, just stood against the wall, holding each other. Bucky was right. It _wasn't_ okay. Who could say if it would ever be okay again? Only…at the very least…the pain hadn't been for nothing.

XxX

In order to combat the years of isolation conditioning the initiates had undergone, it had been decided to keep them all together. Belle was difficult, but they'd found that Jane coming to visit her with little Balder seemed to soothe her. That was who was currently in with the 2R orphans when Steve and Bucky entered their ward. The little boy was laid out on Belle's lap and Jane sat very close while she played peek-a-boo with him, much to the baby's delight…and Belle laughed right along with him. Her face began to darken, though, when she sensed the new minds approaching. Almost immediately, Jane took her son back, uncertain how Belle would react to the new stimulus.

"How you doin'?" Bucky asked her.

"I played with Balder," she said, the smile returning briefly. Then she looked at Jane. "Doesn't scare her…scared…they'll take him away."

Unable to really say anything to this, Jane moved away to talk to Makoto, leaving the two soldiers to speak with Belle. The young redhead's expression grew even stormier.

"I…listen…with my ears…and he laughs…sings…loves…but then…it all gets dark again…hear so much…like…bits of hail flying around."

"She's like that most of the time," Sinthea's voice suddenly came from behind them. "Mostly she's stopped spouting whatever she's hearing, but…she can't always help it. It's like a cup overflowing once it's too full."

At that moment, Belle's eyes fixed on Steve, her lip quivering as she whispered, "Afraid."

"Afraid of what?" he asked her.

"That you'll know," she said, her gaze sliding over to Bucky. Then, almost as if she'd gone boneless, she slid out of her chair like water and settled on the floor. Then she began to beat her fists furiously against the hard surface.

"Belle! Stop!" Sinthea shouted, quickly moving forward and wrapping her arms around Belle, gripping her fists in a tight hold. While she worked to restrain her, Belle kept her eyes on Bucky. Then she began to speak in a voice that was eerily like Steve's.

"I hurt myself…because I had to punish myself…to keep you."

"What?" Bucky whispered in shock, slowly turning to look at Steve. "What's she talkin' about?"

Steve turned away, unable to look Bucky in the eye. "I…I was going to tell you-"

"What did you do?" Bucky demanded, his eyes going fierce with anger.

"It wasn't anything permanent."

"No!" Bucky growled. "Tell me what you did! _Show me!_"

The assault was over almost before it began. Bucky forced his mind against Steve's, pulling at the memory that was now at the very front of his mind. The moment he saw the blood-soaked shield…Steve's broken, bloody hands…he pulled back, crying out as if in pain. Then he fell to his knees, head in his hands.

"Bucky!" Steve cried out, quickly dropping to his knees beside him.

"I- I didn't…I'm…sorry…I don't-"

"Buck, what are you talking about?"

"I just _broke into your mind!_ Without permission!" Bucky hissed at him, his gaze now desperate…horrified. "I did something I _swore_ I'd never do…to _you_. Do you _get_ that?" he asked, half of him _wishing_ Steve would be angry with him…while the other half knew he never would be.

For a while, Steve didn't say anything. He just took Bucky and held him in his arms. This was, after all, his fault…for not saying anything sooner…for inadvertently forcing Belle to spring such a thing on him. He couldn't really blame Bucky for being angry, for reacting the way he had.

"You're not wrong," Belle's voice sounded in the super soldier's ear, her voice sounding an uncanny amount like Bucky's. Slowly, he looked toward her and found her staring at him. She wasn't struggling anymore, but Sinthea was still holding onto her.

"Not…wrong?"

"I _am_ slipping. You felt like you were losin' me…you might be. It feels like…disappearin'…a little. I dunno _what's_ happenin'…if I'm just goin' crazy…or if I'm actually disappeain'…I don't know!" Unable to stand it anymore, Belle screamed and buried her face in Sinthea's chest, continuing to mumble incoherently.

"What does that mean?" Steve asked his oldest friend, holding him a little tighter.

"What she said. I dunno," Bucky answered truthfully. "I feel…like I'm not on solid ground…like it's all gonna give way any minute. The way _you_ felt…I don't understand it. Maybe I really _am_ just goin' crazy…"

"Or something _else_ is going on," Steve theorized, running his hands up and down Bucky's back. "Why would we both feel this way…if it was just _you_ going crazy?"

Bucky looked up at him again, something different lighting his eyes…something he hadn't thought of before. "Y'know…there could be somethin' _to_ that…only…if you _do_ start feelin' it again…promise me you won't go beatin' yourself bloody again. _Talk_ to me."

"Only if _you_ won't go doing stupid things like handing yourself to the Skull," Steve bargained, reaching up to brush some hair from his face. Bucky shook his head, his eyes briefly going glassy.

"No…no, I don't think I'm gonna be doin' that again."

"So…guess we're all a little bit fucked up, huh?" a new voice entered the conversation. The two men looked up to see Makoto looking in on them. Jane seemed to have left.

"Yeah, guess so," Bucky said, pulling back from Steve and giving space for the two of them to stand. "How you holdin' up in this joint, kid?"

"Well, since Belle's not really herself these days, it's up to me to speak for everyone."

"And who's bein' talked about these days?"

"Jarah and Shanta, mostly. Coulson's taking Jarah in. He'll be having a time of it, though. He doesn't speak any English yet, and they'd only taught him a little Russian. His native language is Arabic and…Arrow was the best of us with Arabic. Jarah's only been with us a couple months."

"And Shanta?"

"Looks like your gentle green giant's taking an interest in her. I think he and Ms. Ross'll probably take her in. Good thing, too. Shanta's a lot more wily than she lets on. She's gonna need somebody who can handle her."

"And…Belle?" Steve asked, glancing worriedly back at the two women.

"I think Dr. Schmidt's probably going to take her in. She feels bad about…what's happened…thinks maybe she can help. She's also been getting along with Aiden, so she might take the both of them."

"And how have _you_ been dealing…with what was done, I mean?" Steve asked him.

Makoto thought about it for a few minutes before answering. "Well…I guess I can't complain. Compared to the others, I turned out pretty normal. It is…different, though. I was fast before, but now…_damn_, it's like lightning. I can hear, smell, see…it's all so much sharper; and I used to think Evie was starting to get heavy, and now it feels like she weighs about the same as a feather. It's crazy," he said, flexing his hands into fists as he looked down at them.

"Don't I know it," Steve said, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I was about your same size when I received the serum…only I was about eight years older."

Makoto's eyes bugged at this, only growing rounder as he took another look at the super soldier.

"You're _kidding_."

"Not even a little bit," Bucky said, offering up a tired smirk as he pounded his fiancée on the shoulder. "He was a grade A shrimp."

"It's a crazy thing, this serum. Do you think maybe…you might do better with someone who's already been through it?" Steve asked him.

Makoto looked uncertain for a moment. "Are you making me an offer, Cap?"

"Maybe we are," Bucky answered for him. "I'd kinda like to get you back in the ring, kid…teach you a few more moves. Besides…it's like you said. We're all a little bit fucked up. Maybe we can help each other."

Briefly, the boy's eyes looked hopeful…but then they hardened into flint again.

"If you want me…you're taking Eve, too. I won't leave her behind."

"Don't worry, Makoto. We didn't expect it to be any other way," Steve reassured him. "Where _is_ Eve?" he asked him.

"She's napping. The younger ones had another round of psych eval today and they were pretty tired. Aiden's still in with them, but the other three are sleeping," he said, nodding his head toward another part of the ward. The two men followed his lead as he moved back toward it, heading toward one bed in particular.

Eve woke the moment Makoto was beside her…almost as if she sensed him.

"Sorry, Evie. Did I wake you?"

Eve shook her head, yawning. "Nein, I just woke up."

"Did you have a good nap?"

"Ja. Is it time for dinner yet?"

"Not yet. I just have to ask you something. Do you remember Bucky?"

Eve nodded. "Ja."

"He and his partner want us to live with them. Is that okay with you, Liebling?"

Eve's eyes brightened, though she was still clearly sleepy. "You mean…we get to be a _real_ brother and sister?"

"Doesn't matter _where_ we are, Evie. I'll always be your big brother."

Eve smiled, first at her brother, then at Steve and Bucky. "I like that. That's nice. I think I'm gonna sleep some more…Nii-sama," she said softly before nodding off again. Makoto tucked the blankets back around her before coming to rejoin his soon-to-be parents.

"What's with the language swapping?" Bucky asked him.

"It's a trick I worked out. They don't…didn't…like us holding onto our native languages. It was part of the identity stripping. When they started doing name conditioning with Evie…I would speak German with her…to help her hold on. She said she wanted to be able to speak Japanese with me…so I had to remember how. It's not always going to be sunshine and daisies, though…this…dealing with our conditioning. It's going to come out in ways you can't understand," Makoto warned them.

"Don't worry. We've got plenty of experience dealing with that," Steve assured him, glancing at Bucky as he twined their fingers together. Briefly, Bucky squeezed the hand he held, but relaxed his grip soon after, turning his focus back to Makoto.

"Though…if _this_ is sunshine and daisies," he joked, nodding his head toward Sinthea and Belle, whom the doctor now held sleeping in her arms, "it's gonna be mighty interesting to see what the storm clouds look like."

"You have no idea," Makoto said, stuck somewhere between joking and serious…but then his expression got that tiny, almost-hope look. "So…what am I supposed to call you guys?"

"Well…I guess we've got time to figure that out. Until then, you can call us whatever works for you. Hell, you can keep calling us just Steve and Bucky if you want," Steve said, offering Makoto a warm smile. Then both he and Bucky reached out their hands to take his, joining the three of them in a little circle.

"I think…I might want to go with…Dad…someday," the boy said, not looking at either of them…just looking at their joined hands.

It was strange at first, that small circle, but as the three stood together, they found themselves thinking it was something they could definitely get used to…something they could love…hold onto…something that could _help._

XxX

Loki scolded himself for this often, but there were times when he found himself _forgetting_ about his plans for Ragnarok.

It wasn't about the daily challenges of raising the twins. What with the ins and outs of feeding, changing, playing, and general upkeep, a certain amount of forgetfulness of other things was to be expected. But it was in the quiet moments when he began to worry. The times he watched them sleep in their cradle…whenever he held Fenrir close in order to feed him…or play-fought with Hel as he struggled to change her…those moments when he watched them play together on their blanket, rolling around, learning to crawl. It was at times like these that he began to forget his grand plans for their little family…and think of how Hel and Fenrir are _his_…about how much he loves them…that he doesn't want any harm to come to them…that he will move creation before he allows that to happen.

But then he would shake himself…remind himself that such things could _never_ happen, because he was going to teach his children to be strong…to fight…and they would remake creation as they saw fit. Although, sometimes…lingering just at the back of his mind, there always seemed to be a whisper…the knowledge that his little family wasn't yet complete…that not all the pieces had fallen into place.

Tonight was such a night. Loki was holding Fenrir in his lap while Hel crawled around on the floor, dragging her favorite toy around with her: a stuffed bilgesnipe. She loved to make the little toy growl and chase the other toys around the nursery. The only thing she didn't make her bilgesnipe growl at was her little brother. He'd started crying the first time she'd done it and she'd never done it again. Fenrir laughed and clapped his little hands as his sister put on her show, and Loki watched them, a vague smile balancing on his lips. Even though he could actually count himself as _happy_ tonight…there was still something missing in his mind…something still needed to complete the picture.

_What is it? What's missing?_

While Loki had been thinking about it, his son had been wriggling furiously to get down from his lap to go play with his sister, but Papa didn't seem to be paying any attention, so little Fenrir struggled even harder, reaching out to senses he couldn't understand and feeling strange new energies move through his tiny body. Almost before Loki even noticed the wave of magic, a little wolf cub was sitting in his lap where Fenrir had been.

At first, Loki was shocked enough to loosen his grip, allowing the newly mobile baby to slip out of his arms and onto the floor. For a moment, he was unsteady on his feet, but only a moment. The very next, he was prancing around the room, howling and yipping with delight.

"Well, that's…different," Loki said to himself as he watched. _He_ hadn't manifested shapeshifting skills that young. It had taken practice, but Fenrir, he'd just slipped into it like a second skin. Perhaps there really was something to the mixing of blood.

Hel squealed with excitement as her brother bounded around her. Finally, he came to a stop before her and she grabbed handfuls of his thick silvery fur, pulling herself to her feet so she could stand with him. Then he began to lick her face. At this, she tumbled backward, helpless in a fit of giggles. Then Fenrir lay down beside her and Hel wrapped her arms around the scruff of his neck, hugging him tight.

Just as Loki was wondering if his son was able to change back, a little boy was lying on the rug with Hel where the wolf cub had been. The trickster smiled as he moved to lay down on the rug beside his children, curling his body protectively around their tiny ones. Somehow, after all the excitement, they'd managed to fall asleep, still holding each other. Loki sighed, feeling strangely content as he ran a hand over brown and blonde hair.

"You will be magnificent…both of you."

XxX

It was late in the afternoon on May 21st several months later, when Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes finally tied the knot. They'd chosen to have the ceremony in Central Park, which Fury took slight issue with, but really, there were so many weddings going on there at any given time, who was really going to notice one more?

Of course, neither of them had any type of parental figure, so their best men also served the role of escort: Tony for Steve…and Natasha for Bucky.

"Nervous, Barnes?" Natasha asked her charge as they waited for their chance to walk down the aisle.

Bucky shook his head. "You can't call me that anymore."

"Well, I can't just call you both Rogers, now can I," she quipped, straightening her black dress.

"Oh, I have every confidence you'll figure somethin' out."

Natasha smirked at him as she held out her arm for his. "Laugh it up, _Barnes_. You're not down that aisle yet."

"Let's get a move on, then," he said, taking the offered arm and allowing the Black Widow to lead the way. As they moved, Bucky looked out at the crowd of friends that had come to the wedding.

Clint was near the front, holding a wriggling Zasha in his arms. Zasha was small for a five-month-old. She probably always would be, considering the circumstances of her birth…but that didn't stop her from being a little spitfire. Balder was just the opposite, lying quietly in Jane's arms while Thor dangled a teddy bear for him. Bruce was also in the crowd with Betty and Shanta.

Fury had made an appearance. He was dressed the same as always, but at least he'd shown up. Sharon had come, of course. Coulson, as well, along with Maria, and they had little Jarah between them, who smiled much more than he used to.

Apart from Thor, several other Asgardians had made an appearance, including Sif and the Warriors Three. Darcy sat with them, holding her three-day-old son, Chase. They actually hadn't thought she'd be able to make the wedding with the recent birth, but she'd insisted. Even better, though, was the fact that Sif and Fandral still seemed to be getting along, which had been a worry, as Chase was Fandral's son, but Darcy was still with Sif. They were an odd little family…and apparently still growing. Sinthea, along with her two adopted children, Belle and Aiden, was sitting with them. Sinthea, Sif, and Darcy had recently become something of a threesome. Bucky didn't quite get how that worked, but they seemed to be happy, so who was he to judge? Belle was also doing a little better these days, as Mimir had been teaching her how to shield her mind. She still went off loopy every now and then, but Mako had informed them the situation was likely preferable to Belle's former personality reasserting itself.

Also sitting near the front, her eyes bright as she watched the proceedings, was Pepper, soon to add to their growing daycare at six months pregnant. Tony hadn't exactly been thrilled, to say the least, but he seemed to be dealing okay, all things considered.

Completing the party at the end of the aisle were their two children, Eve as flower girl and Mako as ring bearer. Both were smiling as he and Natasha approached. Then, when his eyes fell on Steve, waiting for him at the altar, the rest of the world seemed to lose focus around him and all he could see was Steve's smile.

How had he lived to see this day? He had nearly wasted away with longing for it, thinking he could never have it, and now…to actually be standing here…after everything that had happened…how? How had _he_, former Winter Soldier, earned the right to stand here and make his vows before the world? How had _he_, of all people, ended up with _Steve Rogers?_

The priest was speaking, but Bucky hardly heard him. His entire world consisted of Steve…of where they were standing…of the promise they were making.

_I take thee to be my husband…_

_To have and to hold…_

_From this day forward…_

_For better or worse…_

_For richer or poorer…_

_In sickness and in health…_

_Until death do us part._

"I do."

It could have been either or both of them who spoke the words in that moment. It didn't matter so much. They were sworn to each other. From this day forward…

Eve and Mako joined them as they walked back down the aisle. They were an odd family, but a family, nonetheless. Not just the four of them, but all of the Avengers and their own families, as well…all of them. Perhaps it didn't matter so much that several bat shit insane super villains wanted to kill them all. After all, what family was stronger than theirs?

XxX

(A/N) So does anyone else taste the semi-sweet irony in Bucky and Steve adopting a German kid and a Japanese kid? I actually didn't plan it that way, just kinda noticed it as I was working on this chapter.

So…lots of unanswered questions and loose threads, I'm sure. I imagine you're all wanting to know what the deal is with Loki and the twins. That was never meant to be the subject of this story. They will figure prominently in the final story, which is currently called 'Until My Dying Day', and should be up before too long. Should warn y'all, though, there will be a bit of a time jump between this and that, so I was thinking of maybe writing a one-shot collection in conjunction with that which would contain scenes and other tidbits of character arcs that don't necessarily line up with the main story line, but are still part of the world. Might that interest anyone?

Either way, I hope to see you all at the end of the trilogy and hope that I can continue to please you.


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